Destiny
by Annie Lockwood
Summary: Hermione's wedding night is everything but perfect for the young witch. Her new husband and long-time friend, Ronald, is passed out drunk and she thinks upon her life leading up to that night. Hermione falls asleep, despondent and alone. When she wakes up the following morning, she is still in bed with her husband. But it isn't Ronald Weasley. :Under temporary construction.:
1. Wedding Bells

_**Destiny**_

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Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter universe.

A/N: Howdy, all my WONDERFUL viewers! Here is the first chapter of Destiny! Enjoy my lovelies, and review, s'il vous plait?

-Annie

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Wedding Bells

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I kept hearing the same song repeating in my head. It knocked around my brain loudly like an alarm going off.

_Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married._

_Gee, I really love you and we're gonna get married._

_Going to the chapel of love._

It was a song from my childhood that my mother would often listen to as she cleaned the house. The song sent me back to a vulnerable, innocent place in my life when I was in primary school. It was a time full of sunny days and fresh salty air, bullying and often feeling lost before I found magic.

Before I found Ron.

It was rather ironic, I thought, that this song played like a broken record in my head today. Today, of all days, with my mother stringing white flowers in my stiffly curled hair and Molly Weasley just outside the dressing room of the modest country church, fussing about the lace on the lavender bridesmaid dresses that had been picked out a mere two weeks ago and bought in a flurry before I could even decide whether I enjoyed them or not.

I stared blankly at myself in the mirror. I was getting married today. The thought made me squirm and my mother swatted my bare shoulder.

"Stop shifting, dear," she said, pinning more flowers into my glittery hair.

I felt like I was playing dress-up, cloaked in my white empire waist wedding gown. It was bought the same day as the bridesmaid dresses in a shop just a few miles south of Whitby Bay where my parents resided. It was where I had always envisioned myself getting married. Somewhere simple, familiar, and easy.

But none of this was simple, familiar, or even easy.

With trembling hands, I slipped on a pair of white silk gloves, which had once belonged to Molly Weasley on her wedding day to her husband Arthur. She'd been married to the same man since she was eighteen years of age.

I swallowed hard. I was barely nineteen in four months, still on the fence between woman and girl.

On my right wrist I clasped the sapphire bracelet that Ginny had given me earlier that week at my small bridal shower.

"It was my Aunt Muriel's from her wedding day, back when she wasn't so crazy. It's tradition for every woman in the family to wear it on their wedding day and since I won't be getting married any time soon, I thought it could be your something blue," she had said simply when she'd given it to me while I was trying on my dress, shrugging embarrassedly.

We had always been close and sister-like, but after Ron and I announced our engagement almost a month ago, she could barely leave my side, eager for the distraction.

No one had asked me if I was rushing into this, getting married after only a month of being engaged and roughly nine months of dating. But I certainly had been asking myself that question a lot lately, along with an assortment of others. The other questions swirling around in my brain were due to my father, who had demanded an answer from me a month ago when he had brought up these same questions.

And that's exactly the problem lately. Whenever I asked myself the hard questions—the ones that my father had inquired heatedly from me within his study, the ones that made me face the reality of what I was doing, who I was going to spend forever with—I would find myself pausing, my stomach turning over like I wanted to be sick.

Could it be nerves? Perhaps it was the coffee that Ginny regrettably knocked back my throat this morning after I stayed up all night worrying about the day to come? Or was I just letting my father get to me and push his ideas of perfection on me the way he always had since I was a little girl?

It was easy for me to say yes when I asked myself if I truly loved Ron—I really did—but could I handle being married to a man whom I fought with on many occasions, _every_day? Could I start my life this way. Were we really ready? Would he and I be able to work past everything we'd been through?

"Mum?" I whispered as she covered my face with the thin gauze of my veil. "Do you think I'm making the right decision?"

In the mirror, I saw the lines of worry appear on her forehead.

"You aren't getting cold feet are you, honey?" my mother laughed, shaking her head and patting my shoulder, the lines on her face disappearing almost as quickly as they had appeared. I smiled weakly up at her.

"You are so beautiful, sweetheart."

_I don't feel beautiful,_ I thought darkly, staring hard at my reflection. It was hard to look myself in the face these days because I knew I wouldn't like what I saw.

"And as for making the right decisions," my mother continued, "I think that if you love him and you feel it is right in your heart, then you are making the right decision for you. I simply can't make those decisions for you, even though I wish I could. I don't know what the future hold for you two, but I do know Ronald loves you very much and I know you have a special place for him in your heart. Have you tried asking Destiny?"

"Destiny" was a story my mother had been telling me since I was three years old, about a beautiful lady with the magical powers to change someones future, past, or present by helping them make decisions. My mother used to tell me that whenever I had a question or a decision I was having difficulty answering, to ask the "Angel of Destiny" to point me in the right direction. She was a very spiritual individual and believed strongly in the presence of a higher being, whereas my father was a very factual, realistic, and close-minded man. He often told me that no one could solve your problems for you and would get onto my mother for bringing up such fairytales.

I gave up on that fairytale a long time ago.`

Just then, Ginny burst through the door of the dressing room, flushed and puffing in agitation. When she spotted me, she grinned brightly, scurrying over to give me a crushing hug, her almond shaped eyes alight with excitement.

"Oh, Hermione!" she exclaimed, eyes watering. "You look simply stunning!"

"Thank you," I replied weakly, putting a hand on my stomach to calm the sickening feeling bubbling up inside it.

The clock tower in the church began to chime.

"It's time," Molly said from the doorway. "Are you ready?"

That was the fateful question.

_Was_ I ready? Ready to plunge into my new life with a man I knew I loved and trusted, whom I had been best friends with for years? Was I ready to become Mrs. Hermione Jean Weasley?

_Was I ready?_

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Luckily, because of the veil, no one could see my pause, or the desperate, frightened tears brimming in my horrified eyes. Instead, I let Molly steer me out of the dressing room, my mother trailing behind. Ginny, my maid of honor, led the others through the entrance of the chapel and I gulped, wondering if every young bride experienced this feeling or if something was truly wrong with me.

"_Gee, I really love you and we're gonna get married. Going to the chapel of love."_

And with that song still bounding about in my head, I took my step forward into the chapel of love.

* * *

It had been a long, exhausting day.

After the ceremony, my life was a whirlwind. In Muggle society, weddings were normally a short affair with the ceremony lasting no more than thirty minutes to an hour depending on vows and the reception taking place right after and lasting, at most, three hours. In traditional Wizarding society, however, they were an all-day affair.

Immediately concluding the ceremony, we had a short luncheon with the staff of the _Daily Prophet, _where we interviewed our years through Hogwarts, how we first met and came to love each other, and our feelings about the day of our wedding. After all, who could pass up such a romantic day with two of the most famous people in all of Wizarding society. And, of course, Harry was asked to join.

Even though it was our day, Harry still somehow managed to be thrown in there. After the luncheon, we traveled to the Burrow where we changed out of our wedding attire and into our more comfortable but still formal dress robes. While Ron and I confirmed our reservations at the bed and breakfast in Wales, the Weasley's set up the reception tent and soon the guests for our reception began arriving.

The reception in the courtyard of the Weasley's magnificently odd home was certainly a spectacle to behold and I was surprised by how much they'd put together in such a short notice of time. I could definitely appreciate all the time and effort Molly and Arthur had gone in order to make sure everything was in order.

We greeted our guests one by one, as was tradition, took pictures, and small-talked about the weather in our honeymoon destination. We wined and dined and danced. Though I wished for it to end, I was terrified of what was to come next.

I was married. I didn't feel any different, that was for sure. If anything, I felt _more_ sick and felt the need to cry my eyes out even more than I had while sitting in the dressing room an hour before. All around me, people were gathering with smiles, bearing gifts and snippets of advice and congratulations.

My mother, seeming so out of place amongst the flurry of witches and wizards, and Molly were laughing freely with each other by the banquet table Molly had set up; they had always gotten along well. My father, however, was still nowhere to be seen.

I surveyed the yard, watching as the afternoon began to dim into evening. Everyone had smiles, except me.

_Where_ was my husband? I hadn't seen him since we'd finished taking pictures, where he'd kissed me on the cheek and told me he'd be right back. He hadn't been _right back._ At least we'd been able to cut the wedding cake. Instead of his support, I sat in my chair at the bride and groom's table, sticking my plastic fork into the lettuce on my plate repeatedly, listening to The Supremes sing, "Baby Love". It was really quite fitting.

"_Ooh baby love, my baby love_

_I need you, oh how I need you_

_But all you do is treat me bad_

_Break my heart and leave me sad_

_Tell me, what did I do wrong_

_To make you stay away so long._"

I sighed, giving up on my salad. When Ron finally returned, the photographers had long since ditched, the caterers had packed up and vamoosed, half the guests had left, and the rest were in the process of doing so. And for the life of me I could not find Harry and Ginny anywhere.

Ron came up to me, looking happier than a clam. When he walked he staggered slightly, nearly upsetting the entire tent.

_For the love of Merlin, please God, not on my wedding night!_ I pleaded silently as Ron stumbled toward me with a loose grin on his face.

"Hey," he greeted lamely, shamefaced.

I folded my arms, my lips creasing into a hard line.

"Really, Ronald?" I hissed. "You promised me you'd stop."

"Well, I figured that would mean after our wedding," he replied thickly. "It's a day of celebration, right? Speaking of, shouldn't you be happy to see me?"

_Yes, shouldn't I?_

"Do you realize the time?" I demanded, feeling my face grow hot. "Where have you _been_?"

"Now, now, don't go getting your knickers in a knot!" Ron exclaimed and several guests that were leaving raised their eyebrows in alarm.

I feigned a smile and laughed modestly. They took my bluff and wished me a goodnight before bowing out the entrance.

"Do you have the slightest clue how you look right now?" I spat. "I can't believe you would be so miserable on our wedding night that you would get plastered."

He reached for me in protest but his breath held the all too familiar and negative aroma of fire whiskey, his favorite form of therapy.

I shoved him off of me. The stench was overbearingly powerful and brought me back to places I didn't want to look back on. It was supposed to be our night.

A happy start to a clean slate and a new future.

"Firewhiskey? Ronald, are you_ insane?_ You know what that stuff does to you!"

"Hermione, I'm fine," he forced out angrily and I took a deep breath.

He'd obviously had a lot to drink considering his quickness to be irritable.

"You disappeared for practically the _entire_ reception, and then show up here drunker than a _pig_, and expect me to _not get my knickers in a knot_?"

"Damn it!" shouted a voice from behind me. "We're too late."

I was rather alarmed to see Ginny enter the tent, Harry trailing in hurriedly after her. They both looked panicked and frazzled. Harry's tie was undone and Ginny's lipstick was smeared. I'd been so focused on my anger toward Ron and my humiliation that I hadn't even noticed them calling for Ron outside. Ginny glanced between me and Ron and sighed, raking a hand through her claret hair. Harry came to her side, his face flushed and hair standing on end, and wrapped his hand around Ginny's, eyes cast to the ground.

So, what? Were they back together?

"Where the hell have you two been?" I demanded furiously.

"We…we were just talking and then we lost track of Ron so we went looking for him," Ginny stated apologetically. "He's about to drop. There's no way he can apparate like this. It's too dangerous. Let's take him up to the bedroom."

The bedroom? Meaning his old bedroom near the attic in the _Burrow?_ I was to spend my wedding night in the house my husband grew up in, the house his mother still lived in?

I was about to argue this but Ron suddenly doubled over, heaving. Luckily, nothing came out. Relenting momentarily from my anger, I helped Harry and Ginny lug my drunk husband up to his room. On the way up I couldn't help but notice Ginny's shared glances with Harry, as if they knew this would happen.

"How could we let this happen?" Ginny whispered solemnly. "We were in charge of keeping an eye on him. You said he hadn't been drinking all that much when you left to meet me and that he was just finishing up with his friends."

"He was," Harry replied defensively. "He told me he was heading back to Hermione, but then he ran into Mr. Granger. I guess he got sidetracked."

"Wait, what?" I stop abruptly on the stairs, ignoring Ron's moan of protest. He was always such a baby when he was nauseous. "My father was here?"

Ginny shot Harry a dirty look. "You didn't tell me he'd run into Mr. Granger!"

"He came to pick up your mother," Harry explained evenly, sighing heavily. "He saw Ron with some of his old drinking mates and my guess is, after I left, he and Ron had a row of some sort."

"How could you leave Ron alone with him!" shouted Ginny.

Harry looked deeply at her and all the answer she needed rested in his eyes.

"It's not my business who Ron talks to," responded Harry.

"Well, obviously, but Harry I'm surprised by you," snapped Ginny. "If I had known that I wouldn't have left him alone! And now my best friend has to spend her _wedding night_listening to her brand new husband _puke his brains out_!"

I think they'd forgotten Ron and I were still there. Of course, Ron was too far gone to even recognize that they were shouting about him. Once we were in the bedroom, Harry and Ginny helped Ron undress and hoisted him onto the bed. By now it was too dark to see the interior of the bedroom and Ron threw a fit when they turned the lights on. All I saw were outlines of the furniture and shadowy shapes on the walls caused by the movement of the trees outside.

I ignored Harry and Ginny as they left the room and locked the door behind them, muttering apologies and excuses. Then, after washing the make-up off my face and stripping out of the wedding dress —the one I had hoped my _husband_ would help me take off in our _hotel_— I climbed into bed next to my redheaded husband, listening to him snoring deeply. I decided I didn't want to cuddle with him. I wanted nothing to do with him right now. Instead, I turned over on my side, facing away from him toward the window.

I was all out of tears to shed over Ronald Billius Weasley.

Exhausted and hurt beyond measure, my eyelids drooped and I slipped into unconsciousness.

When I woke up the following morning, everything appeared to be the same. So why did everything feel different? I stretched out in the bed, my bare legs sliding greedily over the green silk sheets.

Odd. I hadn't noticed that the sheets were made out of silk last night when I'd crawled into bed. And since when did Ron buy silk sheets? Perhaps it had been the doing of Molly after Ron moved out. Perhaps she had made it into a guest room.

I yawned, casting the thought aside. I'd been too exhausted and horrified to really notice a thing. Plus, it had been so dark. I took in my surroundings now and started. Two French doors stood prominently to the side of the bed, leading out to a balcony. The Weasley's didn't have a balcony, did they? Had they done renovations to Ron's old room?

My eyes darted around the room at the dark, rich red wallpaper. The carpet was a plush cream color and looked warm and fluffy. There was a large wardrobe and dresser near the door as well as a vanity and two nightstands on either side of the king sized bed.

I stretched again, feeling my muscles relax, and looked down at my nightgown. Again, odd. I'd never seen this one before. It was a spaghetti strap black, rather short and lacy, nightgown. I had been sure I'd grabbed my blue one, but perhaps I had been mistaken in the dark. Was this Ginny's grand idea of a lingerie gift? It was certainly nice, but how had she managed to buy it? It looked awfully expensive, even for a Quidditch player's salary.

Glancing over at the man beside me, I frowned. He'd stopped snoring, I'd noticed, covered completely under the covers. I wondered if he'd gotten cold at night and taken refuge under the covers. I wondered how the window had even opened in the first place. I sighed, deciding I thought too much, and turned back on my side, closing my eyes against the morning sun.

Just then, he shifted and let out a long breath as he woke up. He slid an arm over my waist and pulled me close, stroking my hair with his other hand. He inhaled, obviously smelling my hair, and then sighed, nuzzling my neck. His breath tickled me and I shivered under his touch in pleasant ways that I'd never experienced before. Ron had never touched me like this before.

Then, he spoke.

"Good morning," he breathed into my ear, kissing me softly on the cheek.

I froze.

That was _not_ Ron's voice.

No. That was most certainly not Ron Weasley's voice, though it did sound familiar.

Very familiar. _Horrifyingly_ familiar.

"Did you go back to sleep?" he asked, his voice louder now.

Clearer.

_Oh, please let me be dreaming!_ I cried silently.

I turned around in his arms, noticing that all of his freckles were gone and his skin seemed two shades too pale, and my eyes widened as I took in the sight of the man holding me. This man was _not_ Ron Weasley. This man holding me, in the same _bed_ as me, was _not_ the man I had married last night. This man was _not_ my husband. But how did I end up in bed with this attractive stranger? He spoke again and my heart shuddered to a halt.

I _knew_ that voice.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Draco Malfoy asked, his quicksilver eyes boring into mine with concern.

I screamed.


	2. Mrs Malfoy

_**Destiny **_

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Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter universe, none at all, though that would be a great improvement on my life. However, the idea of the plot in this story is all mine. I'm simply borrowing the characters.

A/N: Wow! I was not expecting this great of a reaction when I first posted this. I'm VERY pleased with the turn out. Thank you all so very much for your reviews! Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

-Annie

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Mrs. Malfoy

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I must have died last night and woken up in Hell.

I must have had a panic attack in my sleep and suffocated myself. Or a heart attack. Or a stroke.

That was, simply, the only logical answer I could come up with to my situation.

In all my years, I would never have imagined waking up in the arms of the man who had bullied me without remorse through six whole years of school, the one who had first called me Mudblood. Why the _hell_ was he in the same bed as me?

And why did he keep calling me endearments?

"Hermione, sweetheart, stop screaming. You're going to wake the neighbors," Draco murmured, still waking up, moving toward me in the bed.

"Don't come near me! Stay where you are!" I cried, shifting as far away from him as possible.

"Did you have another nightmare? Honey, come here, it's okay," he soothed, reaching out for me with his perfect, spidery hand. "Come back to bed."

"A _nightmare?_ Are you kidding me? What planet are you from?" I hollered, jumping out of bed. "Why the hell are you in my bed, Malfoy?"

"Mal—what? Hermione, what on earth?" he wondered, furrowing a perfect eyebrow.

"How did this happen? Oh my goodness—tell me you didn't get me drunk on my wedding night! Where is Ron? What did you do with him? Anything we did last night, I swear, was unintentional. What did you do to me?" I demanded, waving my arms over my head like a madwoman. "Where the hell is my wand?"

"_Ron?_ Don't tell me you were dreaming about him?" the pale-faced man laughed. "Is that why you are acting so odd? Hermione, I'm sorry Weasel-bee was bothering your subconscious, but I thought we'd been over this. Why are you thinking about him so much lately?"

"I think I have good reason to think about him," I countered hotly. "Why should I not?"

"Alright," he sighed. "You know I didn't mean it that way. I realize you two were good friends—like I said, we've been over this many times—but honey, I think that you and I should discuss your feelings. I know that he's has been bothering you lately with the way he's been acting, but he'll come around. He always does. You shouldn't stress so much."

He got up out of the bed and I staggered back. I'd never seen Draco Malfoy shirtless before. I hurriedly looked away.

_Focus Hermione_, I told myself. _Think rationally._

Who was I kidding? I couldn't think rationally like this! Draco Malfoy was standing in front of me half naked and I had just woken up next to him in _bed_! Nothing about this was rational!

"Malfoy, for God's sake, do you mind?" I growled and continued walking away from him. "Put on a shirt or something."

"What has gotten into you?" he wondered laughingly, throwing me an odd look. "Been married to me for eleven years and you're still flustered with my unnaturally good looks?

I was about to retort snidely to his arrogant comment, but I suddenly felt as if I'd been punched in the face, hard. _What_ had he just said?

"Married?" I choked out, all annoyance gone.

What was he on? Was he completely off his rocker?

"What do you mean we're married?" I asked, my voice quivering.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Draco laughed, his gray eyes twinkling in amusement.

As if I was joking.

"Malfoy, you are grating on my last nerve. What the hell is going on?" I demanded, furious.

"You know, I would really like to know the same thing, _sweetheart_," Draco said, sounding slightly agitated, and stepped toward me with a hand outstretched. With a sigh, as if trying to calm himself down, he shook his head and asked, "Hermione, what's going on? Are you feeling sick?"

My first name rolled comfortably off his lips, as if he'd said it a million times, but I stiffened in shock.

"Of _course_ I'm feeling sick, Malfoy. I just woke up in bed with you." My voice sounded as hard as steel. "Now, I will ask you one more time. What did you do to me last night?"

His eyebrows shot up and smirked, winking at me. "Uh, well, many things, as I'm sure you can remember."

"No, I can't bloody remember and I'm getting really tired of your games!" I shouted fiercely. "I want you to tell me what's going on and what happened last night and _why_ I woke up in bed with you! I don't know what the hell is going on."

Suddenly, I began to cry. What _had_ happened last night? I couldn't remember. This obviously wasn't the Burrow and Ron was nowhere in sight. What had happened in the span of time between now and when I hit the pillow next to Ron last night that had gone so askew? He had to have done something horrible to me and most likely Ron.

"I can't remember," I sobbed.

Draco's features became shocked, as if he'd been smacked across the face.

"Should I fetch Pamela? Do you need some water?" he asked.

Concerned, he stepped toward me again with hands reaching for me, elegant in every movement. His hand rubbed my shoulder, comforting and unfamiliar. I skyrocketed backward at his touch, slapping his hands away.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted piercingly.

"What the hell is your problem, Hermione? You're acting like a crazy person!"

"You stay the hell away from me!" I roared, sobbing. "I'll scream, I swear I will."

"_Hermione!_" he shouted, grabbing me by the shoulders and giving me a rough shake. "Snap out of it. What is going on?"

"I _hate_ you!" I exploded crossly, slapping him hard across the face. "Take me back to Ron, _now_!"

He staggered backward, as if I'd stabbed him with something jagged and slicing. His eyes flashed stony gray like the mists of a thousand hurricanes, twinkling abnormally in the morning light, as if glistening with moisture. His pale cheeks suddenly became flushed, his lips forming a hard, thin line. He looked wounded, as if my words had somehow, uncharacteristically injured him. When he spoke, his voice cracked and his tone was rough, as if he was struggling to get the words out.

"So that's what this is all about? _Weasley? _I can't believe this rubbish. I've got to go to work," he said coarsely, disappointingly. "I'll have Pamela check in on you once you've calmed down. We can discuss this more when I get home."

With that, he grabbed a pair of pants lying near the foot of the bed and the white shirt strewn over a chair in front of the room's vanity. Without so much as a second glance, he crossed the room and threw open the bedroom door.

"Happy anniversary," he snarled abruptly and then slammed the door shut.

Anniversary? What was he going on about? My head felt like it was going to explode into a million tiny little fragments. Where was I? Where was Ron? Why had I woken up in the same bed as Draco Malfoy? Why was he being so nice to me? And why did he just tell me 'happy anniversary'? Had I woken up on some plane or other dimension where suddenly Draco Malfoy was the nice guy and we had—dare I say it?— a fling?

It was too extreme to even fathom, so I pushed the thought out of my head before it could even register fully. He must have done something to me. Drugged me, coerced me, obliviated me. I learned a long time ago not to underestimate what people were capable of.

But that didn't seem to make much sense, either. Draco Malfoy had never been malicious toward me enough to harm me. We'd saved him at Hogwarts. His family had been pardoned by the Minister of Magic himself. And somehow, I just couldn't see Draco Malfoy wanting to hurt me.

So, why was I here?

Instead of wallowing in my strange new reality, I threw on the satin black robe lying on the vanity chair and tied it around my waist. That's when I caught sight of my face in the mirror of the vanity.

My cheeks were higher, as if I'd been smiling more than usual. My skin, which had once been pale and pallid, was tinted lightly with honey, like I had been in the sun longer. And my hair! That was definitely different. It had lost all its frizz, though the buoyancy remained, causing it to be full and thick of luster. The color was luscious mahogany with strands of golden honey braided into it. I reached up to the top of my head and took out the ribbon holding it up. It fell down my shoulders and to the middle of my back, longer than I ever would have dreamed it could be. It was beautiful. I was beautiful.

Truly, I was. I had never once been someone to be quite confident in my appearance. Growing up I was actually quite low in the self esteem department, as far as my looks went. I had buck teeth and frizzy, out of control hair that bushed out excessively whenever I would stress. I had to wear braces for years and boys always made fun of me. But now? My body was lean and strong, beautiful and older.

Older.

I still looked young, but I did not look a young woman of nineteen. As if I'd somehow added on years over night.

I tore away from the mirror and threw the door open, bulleting into the hallway. The building I was in was certainly not the familiar warmth of the Burrow. It was a maze of hallways, all of which were lined with French impressionist paintings.

I came to a stop in front of a grand staircase, which winded and spiraled down in dark green carpet and polished cherry wood. A large, sparkling chandelier hung overhead and caught fragments of sunlight, washing the wood floors of the foyer in crystal.

And then I spotted the portrait. The portrait consisted of Draco Malfoy with his silver blond hair and gray eyes, dressed prim and proper in his best black and whites with a red rose stuffed into the front pocket of his suit jacket. Next to him was…me. One hand was resting around Draco Malfoy's arm, our bodies close together, and the other was resting on the shoulder of a blond haired boy, his hair a shade darker than Draco's, with brown eyes and curly golden lashes. The boy was handsome and resembled Draco in a frighteningly striking way. Even though he was young, his high cheekbones were defined and his features handsome; a young Casanova, the boy had a mischievous, sly twinkle in his eyes, one that reminded me eerily of Draco. He was sitting next to another boy, this one of which held a resemblance to someone very familiar.

Me.

The boy had thick and curly chestnut hair, a little longer than I might have liked a young boy to have, but still, he was very adorable. He was smiling wildly, unlike the other boy who was somewhat smirking, somewhat frowning. The brown haired boy was shorter and younger, his gray eyes framed by wiry glasses, his nose sprinkled with faint freckles.

"What on earth?"

I ran down the remainder of the stairs, wheezing. I had to leave. I had to find a way out of the house and find Ron, alert Harry or the ministry. Was I being held captive? I had no wand or memory of how I came to be here.

My panicked thoughts dissipated abruptly when I heard laughter.

I followed the voices, entering a sparkling black granite kitchen and dining room. There were wide floor to ceiling windows in the den which overlooked a vast and glorious garden which seemed to stretch on and on. The den was warm and inviting but held a manner of class and significance. On the mantel above the fireplace were pictures. Among them was a picture of my parents, one of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and a rather large photo of the Weasley family. On closer inspection I realized it was more than just the Weasley family. Harry was in the photo as well, his arm around Ginny who looked rather large and pregnant. Standing next to Ginny stood Ron.

I jolted, staring hard at the picture. I was not with him, but instead a dark haired beauty with petite features, smiling fondly up at him.

I swallowed painfully. This couldn't be real.

Dazed, I stumbled over to the window and peered out into the garden. I instantly spotted the source of the laughter. Two boys, which I recognized from the picture, were chasing each other around the garden. I heard a woman's voice suddenly speak out, calling the boys to her. They ran to the woman, a tall, beautiful looking woman with extremely curly copper hair and mossy green eyes, wearing jeans and a green blouse covered by a cream apron.

"Alright, inside you lads go. It's time for breakfast. If your mother finds out that you two have been playin' in her garden without her permission, she's gonna be right on mad," the woman said and I was mildly surprised by her thick southern accent to discover that she was evidently American. The woman ushered the boys inside the kitchen, through the back door, and said, "Scat! C'mon, get in."

When the woman caught sight of me standing there, staring at her like I'd been kicked in the face by a mule, she began to apologize.

"I'm so sorry. I told them to keep out of your garden, but you know them boys, they always got to disobey," she said, laughing.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" I asked.

"Mum, duh, it's Pam?" said the blond boy, coming into view.

"P-Pam?" I stuttered. "Mum?"

"Mummy? Why you so confused? She's our nanny."

Nanny? I thought. I would never have a nanny. Oh my God. These kids are calling me Mum. I'm a mother? When? How? Who is my husband?

NO. It can't possibly be—

"Hermione, are you alright?" asked 'Pam', coming to my side and ushering me into a chair.

Before I could answer, the door which would turn out to lead to the garage, swung open. Much to my relief, a familiar face flomped into the house. Ginny. But she looked older as well, her fiery hair several shades darker than what I was used to and cut stylishly short in a reverse bob. Behind her trailed a young girl with long red hair braided into pigtails and emerald eyes. On her hip she sported a little boy with a head full of jet black hair, about two years old by the looks of it.

"Hello children! Auntie Ginny is here! Come give us kisses!"

I stared at my best friend, unsure of what to do, my mouth hanging agape. She turned to me and smiled brilliantly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy! Don't you look…" And she trailed off, looking at my face.

I finished her sentence for her.

"Confused?"


	3. Memory Loss

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter world, sadly.

A/N: I sincerely apologize for the long pause in my updating. For some reason, I just haven't been able to bring myself to write this story. To all of my faithful readers, thank you so much for your lovely reviews. They brighten my day and encourage me to keep going. Thank you! So, without further ado, I believe I owe you another chapter. Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Memory Loss

* * *

"You can't possibly be serious," I laughed, but the garbled sound that came out of my mouth sounded strangled and on the verge of hysteria. "You mean to tell me that I'm married to—to—_that_?"

I sharply waved my hand in the air, gesturing to the picture of Malfoy on the mantel above the fireplace. Ginny's coffee brown eyes swept over me worriedly before flickering toward the much taller auburn haired woman in the room—"Pam", the nanny. I stared between them, wondering when they were going to shout, "Just kidding!"; it didn't happen. Instead, Ginny hurriedly crossed the remainder of the living room and sat on the coffee table so that she was facing me. She clasped one of my hands in hers while her free hand felt my forehead.

"You aren't running a fever," Ginny muttered softly and her eyes flickered toward Pam again. "Pam, can you take the children, please? Lily and James brought their swimming clothes; we were planning on going to the beach with the boys today, but obviously—" She gestured to me shortly. "Would you mind terribly?"

Pam shook her head, assuring Ginny in her thick southern accent that it was completely fine. My eyes wandered over to the four children in the room, all of whom were staring at me in concern and confusion—well, all accept the black haired toddler that belonged to Ginny; he was headed toward his red haired sister in determination. Pam hurried over to Ginny's two children, scooping the black haired boy into her arms and taking the red haired girl's hand, tugging them toward the doorway.

"Come along, little ones, let's go to the beach," Pam suggested and the children immediately forgot about me as they rushed up the stairs to get changed.

All except one. The blond haired boy continued to stare at me, standing firmly in place, his arms folded securely across his chest. His brown eyes were penetrating, as if they could read my soul's most hidden secrets. The maturity in this boy's demeanor unnerved me, the emotion in his eyes much deeper than anything I'd ever expected in a boy his age. How old was he, even?

"Jazz, sweetheart, do you mind giving your mum and I some alone time?" Ginny asked, smiling sweetly at the blond.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, frowning at me. "Why is she looking at me like she doesn't know who I am?"

"Jazzy, please, do as I say," Ginny pleaded, casting me a nervous glance. "Your mum is ill and she needs time to rest. Why don't you join your brother upstairs and get changed for the beach?"

"Okay," he relented like the mature boy he was, nodding. He began to walk out, but turned around abruptly. "Are you going to come to the beach, too, Aunt Ginny?"

Ginny offered a small smile and shrugged. "I don't know yet, Jazz. It all depends on when your mum gets feeling better. Now, go have fun!"

The boy nodded in obedience and ducked out of the room, his footsteps clattering loudly on the stairs as he bolted up them, calling out to his brother. I put my head in my shaking hands, breathing in deeply to calm my racing heart. Moments later, four young voices echoed through the vast manor as the children raced out the front doors. The woman named Pam poked her head in, a green and white striped towel strewn over her bare, freckled shoulder. She cast me a worried glance and looked pointedly at Ginny, as if they'd known each other for years.

"Should I call Draco?"

My stomach lurched unpleasantly and I nearly shot out of the sofa at the thought of Draco Malfoy invading my life again after everything that had just happened between us.

"No!" I cried desperately and Pam's moss green eyes widened at my reaction.

With a sigh, Ginny turned toward the young red haired nanny and said, "Just give us an hour or two, Pammy. I'm sure everything will be fine by then."

With an assertive nod, Pam lifted her powder blue beach bag off of the carpet and threw it over her shoulder, disappearing out the front door seconds later. When we were finally alone, Ginny looked at me again.

"Hermione, do you really not remember a thing?" she asked warily.

"No!" I exclaimed, balling my fists in frustration. What was going on?

"Okay, calm down," Ginny hurried and sighed, running a hand through her sleek red hair. "Now, did you hit your head on anything? Drink anything funny?"

I glared.

"No, Gin," I replied stonily.

When was she going to tell me what was happening?

"Well, what's the last thing you remember?" Ginny prompted.

I closed my eyes, racking my brain for a memory that could explain how all of this had happened. Nothing came to me, just Ron passing out drunk next to me in bed.

"You and Harry were hauling Ron upstairs into his old room at the Burrow after he got drunk on our wedding night and ruined the reception," I told her, my eyes still closed as I remembered the disappointing memory.

When I opened my eyes, Ginny's nose was crinkled upward, like it usually did when she was either disgusted or extremely confused. With an arched eyebrow in my direction, I knew it was the latter.

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" she wondered, shaking her head.

"I just told you the last thing I remember," I reminded her. Honestly, she was being very slow this morning. "And we really should get going. Where are we anyway? I need to get back to Ron and let him know I'm okay."

She regarded me for a long moment, the edges of her eyes tightening in stress, before giving a mild chuckle.

"You must've been dreaming," she rationalized, checking my forehead again.

Heatedly, I tore myself away from her and slapped away her hand.

"I wasn't!" I insisted. "And will you stop treating me like I've got some kind of sickness? I'm in perfect health. This is the dream— the nightmare, really— that I can't wake myself up from by pinching myself."

To prove my point, I gave my arm a long, hard pinch until the skin on my arm had turned and angry, blotchy red. Alarmed, Ginny grabbed my arm roughly. I could understand why she was alarmed; frankly, if I'd seen her acting half as crazed as I was in this moment, I would be acting the same way.

"Stop that! Calm down," she instructed, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Honestly, Ginny, have you gone mental, too?" I asked her seriously, feeling the urge to pull out my hair. "Think about it. Why on earth would I marry Malfoy?"

Ginny laughed nervously.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I narrowed my eyes and said, "Ginny, I'm being serious."

Her laughing ceased and she nibbled on her pretty bottom lip.

"I know, and that's what worries me," Ginny agreed and got up from her seat on the coffee table. She began to pace in front of the massive fireplace. She shook her head, as if debating something within the confines of her mind. Finally, she turned toward me again, all seriousness.

"Listen, Hermione, I think you've lost your memory," she told me and I blanched. Seriously?

"I'm married to Ronald, Ginny. Not bleeding Malfoy," I responded, jumping to my feet. "What universe are you in? What the hell is going on? I wake up in bed with Malfoy, for God's sake and I don't even remember how I got there and then he starts calling me endearments and claiming we're married and saying cryptic things like 'happy anniversary'. I mean, if this is some cruel joke you've orchestrated to try and alleviate how awful last night was for me then bravo, but it's time to let it go and let me see my husband. Is he round here somewhere? Ron, you can come out now! Haha, very funny."

Normally, Ginny would have been jumping down my throat for speaking to her with such an attitude, but her usual Weasley temper seemed to be snuffed out by her evident concern for me.

"No, this is no joke, Hermione. You are married to Draco, sweetheart," insisted Ginny, looking more perplexed than I'd ever seen her. "I would know. I was your maid of honor at the wedding."

Now it was my turn to stare at her in alarm. The look on her face was not one to be argued with. With a sinking, repulsive feeling, I realized that Ginny was not lying to me or even joking around in the slightest. Could it be true? Had I really woken up in some random dimension where I was married to my worst enemy and Ginny was okay with it?

"How did this happen?" I yelled, throwing my arms up in the air.

I gave a small sob; I hated being so confused and not having the answers. I sunk back down into the plush cushions of the couch.

"You fell in love, Mione," Ginny replied calmly, smiling warmly at me, "that's how it happens. Granted, it took us all a bit of getting used to, but we warmed up to him in the end. Er—well, not Ron. Ron still hates him. It's been almost eleven years; you'd think he'd be over the dramatic school days by now."

Eleven years? _Eleven_ years? I'd been married to Malfoy for _eleven years_ and I had absolutely no memory of_ any_ of it? I wanted to cry, scream, throw something—Ron.

"Ron!" I shouted suddenly, again jumping to my feet. "I have to see Ron, now."

"Slow down," Ginny said, grabbing my arm as I made for the door I had seen her emerge from earlier.

"I can't slow down," I snapped, wrenching my arm away from hers. "I need to see my husband."

Exhaling loudly, Ginny followed me.

"Your husband as in Draco, or your husband as in Ron?"

"Ron, of course!" I said frustratedly, my fingers closing around the brass knob to the door that led to the garage.

"For the love of Merlin, for the last time, you aren't married to Ron, Hermione!"

I was suddenly very tired. With a sigh, I let go of the doorknob and turned around, facing my flushed friend.

"If I didn't marry Ron, then explain what happened," I demanded, giving in.

"You don't remember?"

When I replied by casting her a look that clearly said, 'Duh!', she continued slowly, flopping down on the couch.

"Well, you and Ron were about to get married," she started slowly, patting the seat next to her, "but at the last minute you backed out, saying you weren't ready to settle down and things were too fast."

I listened to her carefully as I sat next to her, remembering how I had felt when I married Ron. I had been a mess, repeatedly asking myself if I had made the right choice.

"And you weren't ready," Ginny continued, shaking her head. "You cared about Ron, believe me, but it was obvious that you weren't meant to marry him. I was so beyond furious and so was Mum—we both really wanted you in our family—but after a while we realized you wouldn't have been happy with my brother in the long run."

My mind flashed back suddenly to my wedding night, closed away in the seclusion of the Burrow's bedroom as I slipped out of my wedding dress, mascara running down my cheeks. I had been miserable that night.

"You took some time off and went on a much needed vacation—backpacking Europe—" Ginny said, smiling, "and when you came back, you were on friendly terms with Draco, whom you'd met over there. You fell in love and got married about a year or so later."

I blinked at her.

"Bloody nonsense," I finally said, surprised by how much I'd sworn today.

With an unexplainable sadness, Ginny cautiously reached out to me and squeezed my hand.

"And the children? You don't remember them?" she asked quietly, as if afraid of the response.

"No," I said softly, feeling a guilty pang as she sucked in a breath.

"Blimey, I never thought something like this would ever happen," Ginny said, tearing up. "How can someone forget eleven years of their life? Their husband, their _children_?"

She was muttering to herself now, but it didn't make me feel any better. If anything, this only made me feel worse. Timidly, I looked up at her and gave a small smile. If I was going to be stuck in this Twilight Zone, I might as well try to understand it; maybe, if I just played along, I could find some answer as to how I got here and how I could get back.

"Tell me about them," I said, my voice hushed. As much as I wanted to make myself believe this wasn't real, I couldn't help but feel a connection to the boys that supposedly belonged to me.

"The brown haired boy is Haden; he's your youngest," Ginny said, looking down at her hands.

"How old is he?" I wondered, picturing the curly brown haired boy with wire rimmed glasses. I couldn't help but smile as his face swam across my vision. I couldn't explain why.

"Five, soon to be six on November 8th," Ginny said. "He's the most like you, in the sense that he's very inquisitive and intelligent. His ability to hold such a large amount of knowledge at such a young age—and so quickly at that—is the main source of argument between the two of them."

"Do they argue a lot?" Hermione asked.

"All boys do," Ginny laughed, "but they love each other very much, that much is clear. The blond boy is Jasper. He's very brave and he very protective of those he loves—as many older brothers are. He just celebrated his eighth birthday June 2nd, about a week ago."

I had married Ron on May 24th and now it was the beginning of June? Had I time hopped, too?

"He's only eight?" I gasped, referring to the blond boy. "Goodness, I never would have guessed he was so young. I thought he was at least twelve."

Ginny nodded, smiling affectionately.

"Jasper's very mature and responsible for his age," Ginny explained and nodded at me. "He gets that from you. You and him are very close. He's also very rash at times, especially when he gets angry or stressed, which he gets from Draco. You once told me that he and you shared a special connection and that he was the child that was most attuned to your feelings."

"I felt that," I breathed quietly, remembering his penetrating brown eyes, so much like mine.

"It breaks my heart that you don't remember this," Ginny sighed. "You love your children more than anything in the world, and you and Draco…I've never seen a married couple still so crazy about each other."

I flinched at her words, for some reason feeling an unreasonable pain inside my heart. Ginny must have written my reaction off as disgust because she laughed softly and shook her head somberly.

"It's like you're seventeen again and back at Hogwarts," Ginny commented, smirking. "But if it can happen once, it can happen again."

I felt my face twisting unpleasantly at the thought. I was most certain that I would not be re-falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

"And you?"

"What about me?" she asked.

"I saw the photo of you and Harry. You have kids, for one. Did you marry Harry? The last thing I remember about you and Harry was you breaking up a few months after the war and then getting back together on my wedding night. And you've cut your hair," I blurted all at once.

Ginny laughed.

"Well, yes, Harry and I ended up getting back together. You set off for Europe and Harry and I married soon after."

I swallowed.

"Lily is nine, almost ten," Ginny explained. "She was quite the handful, too, as a honeymoon baby, so Harry and I took a bit of time off the baby-making, until we had James; he's one and a half and he can walk, but he prefers to crawl and be held everywhere he goes."

I laughed at this, smiling truthfully for the first time all day.

"Thanks for being here for me, Gin," I told her quietly.

She slung an arm around my shoulder and held me close, just as she always had done.

"Always, 'Mione," she whispered. "We'll get through this. I know that you're a little lost right now, but we'll help you remember. I promise."

The sound of the front doors opening jolted me out of my thoughts and I looked up as Pam entered. Her toned arms were latched securely around a dozing black haired toddler. Lily and Jasper trailed in behind her, both pouting as if they'd gotten into trouble before entering the house. Haden shut the door behind him as he entered, his curly almond hair damp from his swim.

"Mummy, guess what?" Haden exclaimed excitedly, bouncing into the living room and smiling at me with a wide grin. "I fed the birds at the pier!"

I gave the boy a small, uncomfortable smile, unsure of what to do. These boys truly believed that I was their mother, but I'd never been a mother before. I had always been great with children, but the mere thought of actually having my own children here and now…Ron and I had discussed having children, of course. We'd had a whole argument about it. He was ready to start a family as soon as we decided to be married, I most certainly was not.

I cleared my throat, casting my anxious thoughts away.

"That's wonderful…uh, sweetheart…" I attempted and Ginny nodded at me encouragingly. "Erm, make sure you wash your hands, though."

I had no idea what to do, so I just went with it. It seemed like the right thing to do because no one looked at me strangely. Ginny grinned happily at me, making me feel less anxious.

"I will!" Haden chirped, grinning. I soon found myself grinning as well; it seemed his smile was contagious. "Jasper kicked down Lily's sandcastle."

I glanced quickly between the two pouting children. Jasper was soaking wet, dripping onto the wood floor, scowling at the completely dry redhead.

"That wasn't very nice," I commented, eyeing the boy carefully.

He had previously been glaring at Lily and then at his brother when he disclosed this information to me, but when I spoke, his deep brown eyes locked with mine. Again, I felt that undeniable connection flow between us—a bond deeper than anything I had ever experienced. His eyes, as they looked into mine, were a chaos of emotions—happiness, relief, shame, and suspicion.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he said quickly and then glared at the red haired girl next to him again.

"The right thing to do would be to apologize to Lily," I attempted again, going with what felt strangely natural to me. I still felt uncomfortable, but the more time I spent in their presence, the more I began to feel a strange connection to them, one that made me feel like I was indeed their mother.

His ocher eyes darkened at the prospect of apologizing to the girl next to him and he set his jaw firmly, grinding his teeth. Ginny chuckled beside me and I had to wonder what the problem was between the two children.

"Oh, not to worry, Auntie," Lily piped in, smiling adoringly at me. "I got him back; we're even now."

Ginny raised an eyebrow as her daughter gave a small "hmph", flipped her long braid of hair into the pointed, handsome face of Jasper, and skipped to her mother's side.

"Oh? And how did you do that?" Ginny asked her daughter.

"When he knocked my castle over, he ran up to the pier. I crept up on him when he was least expecting it and pushed him in," Lily responded, smirking at the blond boy contemptuously.

"Yeah, and because you did that, little Miss Snarky," Pam said, leaning against the door frame and looking weary, "we came home."

"Without ice cream, too," pouted Haden, clutching his Scooby-Doo towel to his chest.

"Is that right?" Ginny said, pretending to act dissatisfied for Pam's sake, but I saw her wink at her daughter moments later.

"Oh, Pam," Ginny called and the redhead turned to her. "May I have a word in the kitchen?"

"'Course," Pam replied and together the two redheads joined each other in the kitchen.

"Erm…" I said slowly to the children, again unsure of how to proceed. "Could you all go upstairs and change out of your swimsuits and into some dry clothes, please?"

The children dutifully obeyed and ran up the stairs, slamming various doors as they changed. I strained my ears, trying to eavesdrop on the two women in the kitchen.

All I managed to hear was one sentence, a sentence that almost had me flying toward the door again.

"We need to call Draco."


	4. You Don't Remember?

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing; you see, if I did, life would be so much more exciting!

A/N: Thank you to foreverthename, harrypotterluver123, xXxtellmewhyxXx, SweetestSinx3, DaRk AnGeL oF sOrRoW rEtUrNs, Michell-11e, beautifly92 for your reviews. You make my day! So, I'm sure some of you are confused. Let me just go over a few things. Hermione has been married to Draco for eleven or so years, they have two children named Jasper (and no, this has nothing to do with Twilight, puh-leez) and Haden, they have a live-in nanny named Pamela, and they are "madly in love". Ginny is married to Harry and they got married 3 months after Draco and Hermione did. They have two children named Lily who is 9 and James who is 1 ½. A lot of information will be given in the next few chapters, so don't fret. Such information includes: Who Pam is and why she works for them when Hermione would obviously be so against it, info on Ron and his life, more about Draco and his work, relationships, etc, and how he and Hermione fell in love. I know a lot of you are looking forward to Draco's reaction to Hermione's "memory loss", so keep on reading. Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

You Don't Remember?

* * *

When Ginny re-entered the living room, my eyes were as narrow as slits, glaring furiously at her. The smile slowly slid off her face, melting like butter under a scorching sun. Her soft coffee eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, taken aback by my abrupt change in expression.

"What shoved your wand up you arse?" Ginny wondered, completely shocked.

"I cannot believe you called him," I snapped.

"Hermione, he's your _husband_—" she started and then cut herself off by the murderous look on my face. She switched gears. "Technically, I didn't call him."

I waited, still glaring.

"Technically, Pam called him," Ginny said, smirking.

"By your suggestion," I reminded her acerbically.

"Hermione Jean Malfoy, I never took you for one to eavesdrop on other's private conversations," said Ginny teasingly.

I chose to ignore the 'Malfoy' part of her sentence.

"Well, according to you this is my house," I stated. "It's not really considered eavesdropping when you're chatting in my kitchen."

Ginny rolled her eyes, amused by my anger, which I found extremely irritating. Most people would have been cowering in the corner by now, but Ginny was used to my anger, just as I was used to hers.

"Ginny, why did you call for him?" I asked, feeling the heat course through my veins, erupting my entire being on fire.

"Because he's your bloody husband and he has a right to know what's going on with his wife, that's why," Ginny told me irritably, her eyes suddenly granite hard.

"He's Draco _Malfoy!_ I can't believe that—"

My words were suddenly cut off by a strange bout of throbbing in my head. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. I gasped, clutching my head tightly as I stumbled. My vision blurred, tiny black dots bubbling over my eyes until I couldn't see a thing. The room swayed and I suddenly felt as if I'd been hit over the head with a cement block. My knee crashed violently into something hard and sharp, tearing the skin clean off. I hissed, falling and spiraling downward in a sea of pitch black. And then I was gone.

When I came to, I was back in the bedroom with the scarlet wallpaper and the French doors. Thankfully, the doors to the balcony were open and the light afternoon breeze danced playfully with the sheer curtains on the doors. My head throbbed mercilessly as I sat up and I groaned, sinking back into the comfort of the soft mattress beneath me. It hurt to open my eyes. What had happened to me?

I was distantly aware of the door creaking open and someone stepping into the room.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice whispered in my ear.

I felt her sit down beside me in bed, felt her warm fingers brushing back the hair from my forehead. It was murderously hot.

"Merlin, you're burning up," Ginny gasped, removing her hand from my forehead.

"That's the understatement of the century," I moaned, bringing a sweaty palm to my throbbing head. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Ginny said and her tone was laced in concern. "And you didn't go down gracefully, either."

"Not like in the movies?" I heard myself saying weakly, trying to make a joke. I felt surreal.

"Definitely not. You cut your knee pretty badly on the coffee table when you landed on it," Ginny said quietly.

There was a sound, almost like a liquid being poured.

"You don't know how happy I am to see that you're awake," Ginny said. "You were out almost all afternoon. Pam's been trying to get a hold of Draco all day, but I'm afraid he's been out of range of communication. I think he and Harry went on another top secret investigation. They're probably in Russia for all we know."

I furrowed my brow, barely digesting what she was saying to me; it hurt to think.

"Here," Ginny said and my eyes snapped open as she helped me into a sitting position. "Take this. Pam whipped it up for you about an hour ago, but you wouldn't wake up. Anyway, it'll stop the pain for a few hours."

I gulped down the cyan blue liquid in the crystal glass, not even bothering to ask what it was. If it could take away the throbbing in my head, then I didn't care what it was. The effect was almost immediate, but I still felt weak and feverish.

"There's something wrong with me," I whimpered embarrassingly.

I couldn't help the shaking in my voice. I was truly terrified. Was I deathly ill? Was all this just some dream world that I had created in the twisted, dysfunctional part of my brain, to amuse me as I lie in a hospital bed slowly decaying to death?

"Nothing's wrong with you, honey," Ginny comforted, but her words were less than comforting. She was scared too.

"She's in a mild state of shock," a new voice said and I turned toward the door.

Pam scuttled in, a frown plastered to her pretty face, her cinnamon hair swept up in a messy ponytail at the top of her head. She was carrying a small, steaming cup. She handed it to me and I breathed in the luscious aroma greedily. Spearmint.

"I made you some tea, just the way you like it," Pam said with a friendly smile. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, if you're feeling up to it."

I nodded, feeling too tired to point out that I could make my own dinner, taking a swig from the mug in my hand. It was tongue numbing hot. With a polite smile, I gently sat the mug of delicious tea on my nightstand and shifted to a better sitting position.

"Mild state of shock?" Ginny scoffed. "She passed out right in front of me. I would hardly call that a mild state of shock."

Pam shook her head like an expert and said, "She's been through a lot, as is common with those suffering from random strokes of memory loss, but she's not at all at a level of shock that is considered hazardous. She simply had a panic attack."

"But she's burning up," Ginny argued. Pam lightly touched the back of her hand to my forehead.

"She's got a low fever," Pam agreed and went into the bathroom to fetch a wet cloth, which she promptly placed on my overheated skin. "If she drinks that potion every hour and keeps down her liquids, then she'll be better in no time."

"If she's so 'fine', then why did she pass out?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"She's been through a shock and was probably overloaded by all the information and stress," Pam said quietly. "She gets very ill when her blood pressure gets too high in stressful situations."

Ginny nodded and I furrowed my brow, confused. I'd never had problems with stress before. I existed a bloody _war_. Why was my body reacting so oddly now?

"I also brought this up for you," Pam said, handing me a burgundy leather-bound book. "Maybe it will help spark some familiar memories. But don't overload yourself trying to remember."

I nodded, taking the book from her. As I opened the book to its first page, I discovered that it was a photo album. I shut it just as quickly as I'd opened it, placing it on the nightstand next to my scalding cup of tea.

Just then, a door slammed so powerfully that it shook the entire house. There was a frantic yell and hurried footsteps pounded up the staircase. Alarmed, I looked between Pam and Ginny, both of whom were exchanging a nervous but knowing glance.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"I've left the children alone in the kitchen far too long. I'm going to go check on them and make sure they haven't tampered with the chicken," Pam said, exiting the bedroom hastily.

"Ginny, where are you—?"

I didn't bother finishing my sentence because Ginny had already exited the bedroom. I heard her talking quickly to someone down the hallway.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

They're voices were coming closer to the bedroom. I sat up straighter, listening intently.

"Calm down. She's perfectly fine," Ginny was saying. "If you just go barging in there like a fool, you'll only make things—"

She wasn't able to finish. The door to the bedroom swung open in such haste that it smashed against the wall with a loud thud. I stared openmouthed at the shuddering door and turned my eyes on who had just entered. My eyes quickly darted to Ginny as she scampered in after the tall blond man, looking frazzled.

When Draco Malfoy's metallic gray eyes swept across my flushed face, his handsome features contorted immediately, as if pained by my confused and sickly appearance. He rushed toward me and I jumped in surprise as his long, toned arms encircled me, wrapping around my waist like a python. Before I could even comprehend what was really happening, he was embracing me tightly, as if his whole life depended on holding me against him.

I was too shocked to shove him off of me when began stroking my hair, damp with feverish sweat. He was too close, far too close. A strange, foreign jolt staggered through my body like an electrical current as his cold lips lightly trailed against my earlobe, his breath tickling the naked skin of my neck. I felt disoriented again, my heart racing abnormally fast within my chest.

"Draco," warned Ginny.

That was all I needed. Suddenly, like a hard brick had slapped me across the face, I was thrown from my frenzied stupor and back to reality. I placed my sweaty hands on his chest, gulping as I felt the strong muscles beneath his shirt tighten at the contact, and forcefully pushed him away from me. His eyes were confused and etched with an expression I never thought I'd see in Draco Malfoy's eyes: fear.

"My God, you're still alive," he whispered hoarsely, almost sounding relieved. Suddenly, he turned on Ginny. "What on earth is the matter with you and Pamela? Leaving messages at the Ministry every thirty minutes trying to contact me about some blasted emergency? I'd just gotten back in from Albania twelve minutes ago and the second I get to my office, I'm bombarded with just about thirty messages screaming at me to come home immediately because something's wrong with my wife!"

With each word, his voice rose higher and higher, sounding dangerously chilled and menacing. I stiffened and bristled. He had no right to speak to my best friend that way. I grabbed his arm tightly, not exactly sure why other than the fact that I wanted to grab his attention and give him a verbal smack down. But the second his stony gray eyes turned to stare at me, I was suddenly lost in a sea of emotion, and the viscous words I had in store for him slowly dripped off my tongue and faded into nothing. I had never seen so much emotion come from Malfoy in all the years I'd known him combined. It was almost as if he had become a completely different—

No. I could not start thinking that way. Nothing good would come from it. Soon, I would be waking up from this lunacy of a dream, and my life would return to normal.

I twitched as his cold hand cupped my blazing cheek, racking my body in chills that weren't necessarily unpleasant other than the fact that they were being created by him. When my eyelids began to droop, my breathing becoming more relaxed, I shuddered away from him. How was his simple touch creating such a response inside me? It was terrifying.

I slapped his hand away and scooted farther away from him. As if bruised by my standoffishness, he slowly stood up.

"Why are you acting this way toward me?" he asked and I stared at him in utter confusion. Why did he sound so hurt? Wasn't he supposed to be disgusted by my existence?

"What's wrong with her?" he asked Ginny, his voice composed.

"That's what I was trying to tell you before you came barging in here like a mad bull!" Ginny exclaimed, her cheeks rushing suddenly with fiery red color.

"I know," Malfoy said softly, carefully. He walked over to Ginny, rubbing her shoulder like they were the best of pals. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I lost my temper. I panicked. Can you blame me?"

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "No, I can't blame you. I've been trying not to panic all day long."

_This has got to be the most bizarre exchange in the entire world_, I thought, watching the two of them closely. Malfoy was frowning deeply and they whispered back and forth. He blew out a long breath, as if he'd been holding it in the entire time.

"Again, what is wrong with her?" he inquired and as Ginny opened her mouth, he suddenly cut her off, giving her a sharp look. "Give it to me straight, Ginger."

Ginny sighed.

"That's the thing, Draco," she said slowly. "She doesn't believe she's married to you."

I gawked at them.

"That's because I'm _not_," I insisted, glaring at a very shocked Malfoy.

"You—wait, what?" he stuttered, glancing between me and Ginny.

"All her memories are gone," Ginny continued carefully. "She thinks that she got married to Ron."

"_What_?" he hissed, his voice hard as the steel his eyes resembled.

Ginny's eyes rolled up to look at the ceiling.

"Apparently her last memories are of the day of her wedding to Ron."

"Wait a buggering second, Ginger," Malfoy interrupted, holding up his perfect, spidery hand. "You say she's lost_ all_ her memories?"

"The last thing she remembers is the day she was going to get married to Ron."

"The one she walked out on," Malfoy said and Ginny nodded her affirmation.

"And she believes she married him?"

"It's absurd, I know," Ginny hastily said, obviously trying to keep him calm, "but she really doesn't remember the last eleven years. None of it."

Taking a deep, calming breath and running a hand through his hair, he slowly turned toward me. I trembled under the intensity of his gaze and I hated it. I set my jaw and narrowed my eyes.

"You don't remember any of it?" he asked me softly, his voice sounding mangled.

I just continued to stare at him narrowly.

"Paris?" he questioned, voice almost desperate. "Our wedding? Our honeymoon? Our first_ child_?"

He stared at me for the longest time, his gray eyes boring into mine in the most invasive way. It felt as if he were trying to read my very soul.

"None of it?" he whispered.

The brokenness in his voice made me quiver and I bit down on my bottom lip, reminding myself to keep a clear head. None of this was real. I slowly shook my head. Nothing prepared me for the pained moan that escaped his marble lips. I felt as if someone was kneeing me repeatedly in the stomach.

He turned away from me, running another perfect hand through his neatly gelled angel blond hair.

"I need some air," he said hollowly, speaking to no one in particular.

The door snapped behind him as he left. I stared at the spot he had been standing at for the longest time, feeling odd inside.

"Is he—Is he going to be all right?" I asked uncertainly.

Ginny glanced at me quickly and nodded.

"He'll be fine. He just needs time for this all to sink in."

We were silent for several minutes. I heard the sound of dishes clinking downstairs, but it was the new sound in the distance, not too far away from the bedroom, that caught my attention. It sounded as if someone was having a battle with a piece of furniture. There was a tearing, heartbreaking howl, and then all was silent.

Ginny sighed and turned to me.

"It's late. I need to be getting home," she told me and swooped down to give me a peck on the cheek. "I'll check in later, okay?"

I nodded numbly, watching her go, wondering if I was ever going to get out of this mess.


	5. Separate Ways

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING from the universe of Harry Potter.

A/N: Thank you to all that reviewed and a special shout out to my faithful reviewer friend smileylol! I haven't heard from you in the longest time, it's always a pleasure to see a review from you! Anyway, I feel like I've been spoiling you all. Two updates in the same night? Man, I was on a ROLL. Any questions? Comments? Feel free to ask! Review, please! Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Separate Ways

* * *

I remained in the fetal position on the unfamiliar bed for the next hour and a half, alone to my thoughts. From what I could hear—chairs scraping on the floor, dishes clanking, water running, laughter dying—dinner was ending downstairs. I took in a deep breath, running a hand through my sweaty hair. My fever had gone down, thankfully, and I was finally starting to relax—hard as that was.

After deciding I couldn't possibly endure dinner seated next to Draco Malfoy and two children that were supposed to be the outcome of our love, I took my boredom out on exploring the vast room I shut myself away in. I'd memorized the room so perfectly I could practically walk around blindfolded and still manage to find my underwear drawer. But after several minutes, I'd wandered back to the bed and now sat with knees pulled up to my chest, my legs shining in the lamplight. I had been sitting in this position for sixteen minutes, staring at the burgundy photo album on my nightstand.

A loud thunderclap suddenly brought me back to reality and I forced my eyes away from the book on the bedside table. Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I hurried over to the open French doors and slipped through them to stand on the balcony. Outside, the air was fresh and crisp, warm and inviting. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back and letting my hair fall down my back as I allowed a smattering of raindrops to plop onto my flushed cheeks.

I was amazed by the beauty of the intricate gardens outside the house. Draco Malfoy certainly had a taste for the beautiful and fashionable; he also seemed to like his privacy, considering the entire house was surrounded by a vast circle of tall trees. Crawling up the balcony was a rather large vine of roses, all tangled in a mesh of ivy that crept lovingly around the white marble of the balcony banisters. I took a plump rose in my hand, inhaling deeply. The smell of the outdoors and the beautiful flowers was so overwhelmingly lovely that I thought I might actually cry. That was how tired I was. But I couldn't sleep, not when I was so keyed up.

"I planted those for you."

I spun around and in the process I ripped the rose right off the vine; several of its petals fluttered brokenly to the ground by my bare feet. He was staring at me with those deep, stormy eyes, leaning against the doors leading out to the balcony. His eyes roamed over my face, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

When had he come into the bedroom? Why hadn't I heard the door open? And why was he staring at me like that?

Instead of asking the questions that I desperately yearned to ask, I said, "You planted these?"

He chuckled and the sound was like wind chimes, musical and haunting at the same time. I could tell there was something wrong with him, even if I didn't know him that well. He took a step towards me, his eyes moving to the rose cradled in my hand.

"Yes," he responded lightly, taking another step toward me. I was transfixed by his movements, wondering what he was doing. I couldn't move. "You were always so very much in love with roses."

I was startled. He knew that my favorite flower was a rose? But how?

_Because you're married to him, you daft idiot_, the annoying voice in my head chided.

I shook my head rapidly, blocking out the irritating thoughts that plagued my mind. I couldn't quite grasp that idea yet.

"It was your birthday present," Draco said after a moment and I stared as he stalled before me, still staring at the rose in my hands.

"My birthday present?" I breathed shallowly.

Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I just throw the blasted rose in his face, run back inside, lock the balcony doors, and forever shut him out of my life?

He nodded and I watched in both alarm and fascination as his long, perfect finger reached out and lightly caressed the velvet rose in my hands, stroking it much like a lover would stroke the cheek of his beloved. His eyes flickered up to me and as I stared into them, I trembled, only then realizing how close we were standing. He was standing so close I could smell his elegant and alluring cologne, mixed with the scent of spearmint, roses, and the falling rain. It was the perfect combination and I swallowed roughly, feeling my throat suddenly go dry.

"You—You grew me a rose vine for my birthday?" I stuttered, unbelieving. Was this conversation actually happening?

He nodded again and the motion made me suddenly dizzy. It was still raining and the crystalline droplets clung to his neat angelic hair like a halo. I swallowed again, casting my eyes away from his pale face which had suddenly become very and frighteningly handsome in the moonlight.

"Your twenty-fifth," he replied softly and his breath tickled my skin. I sucked in a breath, steeling myself.

I turned away from him, brushing past him to clear my head. His hands fell to his sides and I could feel his eyes on my back, roaming. The thought made me shudder involuntarily and I mentally slapped myself out of the spell I was under. What on earth was happening to me?

"I brought you up a tray, since you missed dinner," his voice spoke from behind me, invading my thoughts and flinging my entire world into uncontrollable chaos again.

I turned toward him and he gestured inside where a tray of food rested on the wooden surface of the vanity near the bathroom. I nodded stiffly in response, unsure of what to say or do. Why was he being so nice to me? In one day he'd woken in bed with me, called me his wife, told me he'd planted a rose vine for me, and now he was bringing me dinner? I wanted to scream or cry, or maybe do both simultaneously. I was so confused and I really needed to sleep.

My eyes, as if they had a mind of their own, found his face once more and sure enough, he was staring at me. He looked worn and tired, most likely exhausted from the day's events, just like me. But the way he was looking at me was unsettling. I must have been going insane, but at that moment, it was as if he was staring straight into me, seeing everything I was.

"After all these years your beauty still never ceases to take my breath away."

His voice sounded quiet and weak, his step hesitant as he sauntered forward, eyes slowly tracing up and down her form. It was then that I realized that I was still wearing what I had on that morning, except the silky black robe had come untied, revealing the lacy black nightgown and the majority of my bare legs. With a mild gasp, I quickly grabbed the edges of my robe, the rose fluttering to the ground, and tied the sash around my waist so tight I thought I might never breathe again.

As if realizing he'd upset me, Draco averted his gaze in an oddly gentlemanly manner, muttering a small, "I'm sorry, I'm just so used to speaking my mind with you. I keep forgetting about…your predicament..."

I swallowed again. It had suddenly become overbearingly hot outside. When I spoke again, I couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm going to take a shower," I told him simply, feeling warmth creeping up my neck, toward my cheeks.

I glanced at him just in time to see him nod stiffly. Taking large strides, I was at the bathroom door in a matter of quick seconds. The door clicked shut behind me as I slipped inside the marble bathroom. My insides felt twisted and knotted, jittery. I could feel the strange cloud I had been in lifting, allowing me to concentrate.

_What was that?_ I wondered, untying and slipping out of the nightgown.

The water in the large shower pounded into my back and loosened my tight muscles. I tried to think of something else, but all I could picture was Draco's face. Not once had he smirked or rolled his eyes; everything about him had been serious and gentle. It was nerve-racking to see how much he had changed in such a short amount of time. After all, it had only been a year since the war ended and he was pardoned.

_Eleven years,_ I reminded myself, and the tears began to fall again. There were two things I hated more than anything. Being out of control and failure.

Failure to understand, to have the answers, to have the control.

Several minutes later, when I had sufficiently calmed down, I toweled off and peeped into the closet. Grabbing the first items of clothing I could find in the large, dim expanse of the closet, I slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a quarter sleeve tee. That's when I noticed a familiar wooden box, sitting in clear view on the shelf in my closet, right next to a jewelry box.

_It can't be,_ I thought hollowly, reaching for the box.

I opened it carefully. It gave a delightful little snap as it opened. Inside the box, nestled between a bed of white velvet, was a beautiful silver necklace with a single silver-backed circular ruby dangling from it.

I gasped, my hand flying to my heart as I stared at the piece of remarkable jewelry in awe.

And all of the memories it brought flooding back to me.

Carefully, I picked up the box to get a better view of the necklace to make sure it really was _the_ necklace and stopped when I noticed the inscription on the back of the circular ruby incrusted silver.

_With Love, Ron._

To my surprise, I felt my heart shudder to a halt. The necklace had been given to me when Ron had asked me to be his girlfriend. I'd worn it every day until we had a row and I threw it across my flat. I had searched up and down for the blasted thing but couldn't find it anywhere.

So, how come I had it eleven years in the future when I was married to another man and had two children? How did it come to be in my possession again?

And what did it mean?

I shook my head, too overwhelmed to face the necklace and all the memories that came with it. It was painful holding it in my hand, as it represented everything our love used to be, the hope for a future that it seemed would never come to pass.

Placing the necklace back into the box and back on the shelf, I rushed toward the door, desperate to get out and put Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley out of my mind for the night. But, of course, I just wasn't that lucky.

As I cracked open the door and poked my head out, I froze, my heart halting for the thousandth time that day. Before me was the most remarkable and unbelievable scene I had ever experienced in my life. On the king sized bed, his pale hand clutching the thick white duvet until his knuckles were as white as the moon peeking in from the balcony, was Draco Malfoy.

And, alarmingly, I discovered the strangest thing—he was _crying._

His other hand covered his eyes and he sat hunched over at the foot of the bed, heart wrenching sobs ripping through his throat, his chest heaving. I felt my jaw drop; I knew I should go back in the bathroom and wait until he had collected himself, to save him from the embarrassment, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from him as he wept. He looked so tortured and pained; it made me want to cry. And I didn't even like him.

"Why?" he suddenly croaked and, horrified that he was talking to me, I began to back away. But he wasn't talking to me at all, I slowly noticed. He let go of the duvet and threw his fist down hard into the mattress so that is creaked under the blow. He let out another sob and a strange pricking feeling began to engross my heart.

"Bring her back to me," he pleaded to the air. "I know that I'm not the perfect man you want me to be, and I know it's been too long since I've asked you for something, much less just talked to you, but I am coming to you now. There must be a reason why she believes in you so much. I don't know if you really exist, but if you are, please, I'm begging you, bring her back to me. I can't live my life without her…None of us can."

It took me only a moment to realize that he was praying. To God, to the stars, who knew? But I was astounded by his outpouring of emotion.

Suddenly, his head whipped toward me and I caught sight of his pale face, streaked with foreign tears. He jumped to his feet, clearing his throat and swiping at his cheeks. Timidly, I approached him, but he avoided my eyes. With one swift movement, he reached over to the right side of the bed and snatched one of the scarlet pillows sitting atop the white duvet. He straightened up and I only then realized how much taller he was than me.

Clearing his throat again and still avoiding my gaze, he whispered, "I-I'll just...leave you to it then."

And with that, he began to inch toward the doorway.

"Where are you going?" I found myself asking, though why I couldn't say.

He paused and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were tormented.

"I can't believe I am about to say this, but here it goes," he said slowly. "Last night you were my wife, the mother to my children, and my best friend. We went to bed last night like we do every other night. When I woke up this morning next to you I was grateful that we'd made it this far. Eleven years ago today, you see, you made me the happiest man alive. And now, you are still my wife and the mother to my children and my best friend, but I'm no longer that to you. You don't remember me or the person you helped me become and I can hardly imagine you wanting to sleep with that memory."

He sent me a smile that didn't even attempt to match the expression in his eyes.

"I understand why you acted the way you did this morning and I want you to know that I will be here for you if you need someone, anyone. I can't imagine what you're going through, but I know I'm not making this much easier on you. So, I'll be sleeping elsewhere. Goodnight, Hermione."

He shut the door behind him and I watched as one single red rose petal gently fluttered to the ground he had just seconds before been standing.


	6. Pamela

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

A/N: Wow! Thank you, my wonderful reviewers—smileylol, neojedigoddess, prndth, littleb101, foreverthename, Michell-11e, beautifly92, cherryblossom-vanilla, harrypotterluver123, , DaRk AnGeL oF sOrRoW rEtUrNs, EmeraldGoddess52, RainingTearsandPixieDust, AreYouSirius-questionmark, jtrem, StevenLover, Lily love snowdrop, flower123, Niriamel, HPequalslove, sparky 753, and HerGoldenWings, Science-Fantasy93—seriously, all of you and your words are making me grin from ear to ear. To answer your review, HerGoldenWings , I will most likely not write from Draco's point of view, because I normally like to write with one perspective, but it's a thought to consider. As for Paris and finding out how they fell in love…well, that WILL happen, you just have to wait for it.

To all, continue your reviews, please, and I'll continue my updates! There is more to come, believe me. So, enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Pamela

* * *

In the dream, my mother was standing behind me, stroking my hair with her tan hands, which were slick and soothing and smelled like coconut oil. Her honey eyes, so much like my own, were twinkling kindly down at me; her familiar and genuine smile spread across her face, wrinkling the edges of her eyes happily, as I clasped her hand in mine. My hand was sweaty and shaky in her grasp and I looked up into her eyes through the reflection of the mirror.

The scene was familiar; I had been here before. I felt sick inside—a combination of wanting to lie down and sleep my life away and crumple to my knees and vomit all over the plush carpet—and I felt my lungs constricting, as if trying to suffocate me to death. The girl in the reflection was a porcelain doll with an unhealthy pallor and ashen cheeks; her eyes were alight with confusion. She looked so young, so scared. And I recognized that she was me.

My mother was fastening something into my hair now and I let go of her hand, allowing her to make a better attempt at it.

The dream was a fuzzy dark cloud of confusion and sickness. Everything was unfocused and incoherent. Nothing made sense. What was I doing here?

"Mum?" I found myself whispering, and the words were so familiar to me that I felt suddenly windswept.

My mother gave a smile in reply, pulling a white veil over my face. I gazed into the mirror, my eyes taking in the girl in the reflection. This couldn't be me. Through the lacy, translucent veil, I saw the girl's face, so much like my own. Her lips parted delicately, perplexedly.

"Do you think I'm making the right decision?" the girl in the mirror asked, and though the words had also escaped my own mouth, I strangely couldn't accept that they were mine.

"Have you tried asking Destiny?" was my mother's sweet and innocent reply.

My stomach lurched as I was suddenly thrown to the side, falling ungracefully into another dream. I was standing beside a red-haired man in a familiar, dome ceilinged church. Sunlight poured in through the beautiful stain glass windows behind the priest, but I couldn't focus on their colorful beauty. All I seemed to be able to focus on was the man by my side—his face was a mask of anxiousness that I'd seen a number of times—and the unpleasant need to be sick coursing through my intestines.

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take this man to be lawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked, staring at me with his bright angel blue eyes, wide and soulful. His gaze was direct and penetrating, searing my insides with an uncomfortable, unexplainable fire.

I swallowed, lifting my eyes to look up at the tall man beside me. But something was different. He was no longer red-haired and gangly, no longer freckled, and no longer nervous. Instead, he stood proudly, his gray eyes shining like melted silver in the sun's rays, his beaming smile blinding me. We faced each other with clasped hands and suddenly, the sickness inside me was gone as he stared into my eyes.

I glanced at the priest, still waiting for an answer, and then back to Draco Malfoy. I swallowed again, but I was unable to speak. I couldn't move. The whole dream froze. And I could only do one thing.

_Destiny, what should I do?_ I thought fuzzily.

Destiny had no time to answer me, for I was abruptly and harshly awoken by loud screaming and a rough collision with my back.

"Mummy!" hollered a voice in my ear, causing the small bones inside my ear to vibrate painfully. "Mummy, wake up!"

My eyes snapped open and I groggily, but speedily, sat up. The room spun and I clutched my head, breathing roughly, trying and failing to still my racing heart. When my vision finally stopped swirling, I focused my tired eyes on the boy jumping up and down on the bed beside me, the feet of his sky blue footed pajamas crinkling the white duvet as he bobbed excitedly.

I almost lost my bearings completely again. I had been so sure that I had dreamt up this world, but it seemed I hadn't.

Haden grinned at me, pointing at a gap in the front of his set of small pearly white teeth. I blinked at him in confusion.

"What is it, sweetie?" I wondered and then jerked spontaneously at my words. They had fled my mouth before I had even thought them, yet they sounded so natural and normal on my tongue.

"Mummy, I lost a tooth last night!" Haden cried delightfully and plopped down on the duvet on his bottom, scooting over to me in bed. "See, look!"

He gestured again to his mouth and despite my tired state, I smiled widely at the small child—again, I was sure that his smile and happiness were contagious.

"That's wonderful, Haden," I told him lightly, uncertainly.

"I know, Mummy, I know!" Haden giggled excitedly, pulling out a large gold galleon. "I got money, too! Just like you said I would!"

"From the Tooth Fairy?" I attempted, hoping that I was correct.

I was. Haden nodded exuberantly. I was incredibly happy about this realization; even though I was married to Draco Malfoy, I had still managed to teach my children the stories from my Muggleborn childhood.

"Mummy, how are you feeling?" Haden asked, snuggling up to me and wrapping his arm securely around my middle, resting his head on my bosom.

A strange warmth bloomed inside my stomach, spreading through my veins in a foreign way until I felt myself stroking the boy's angelic face fondly. He was beautiful and looked so much like me that it was uncanny. But then he stared up at me with his large, gray eyes, and I was suddenly lost in them. They were not mine; they were Draco's. How on earth had something so kind and pure come from him? And why did this wonderful little boy look so beautiful and perfect with the very eyes that had struck so much loathing and hurt in me all these years?

"I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking," I told him, stroking his cheek with my slender fingers.

He responded to my touch eagerly, smiling broadly as he crushed his tiny body up against mine more, as if he needed to feel me beside him. It hit me then that this little boy was convinced that I was his mother. I felt weakened by this realization, mostly because he had needed me to depend on and I hadn't even recognized him. Tears pricked my eyes, but I cast my unreasonably guilty feelings aside as a new voice jarred me more awake.

"We brought you up some spearmint tea," Jasper announced, his voice small as he entered the bedroom.

His long, pale arms were supporting a large flowery tray with a porcelain mug of tea. Steam curled out of the cup and into my greedy nostrils, enveloping me in my favorite smell.

"It's your favorite," the blond boy added, obviously trying to be helpful in 'bringing back my memory'.

"That's very kind of you," I told him and his deep, brown eyes locked with mine.

My heart clenched seeing the expression in them, just as it had last night with the boy's father as he had given me the same haunting and heartbreaking look.

"Do you really not remember anything, Mummy?" Haden wondered bluntly, reaching up to pat my cheek.

So, the boys had been informed that I had 'lost my memory'. It made since, considering the way I had acted yesterday.

"I-I'm afraid not," I replied, my eyes flickering toward the tall blond boy.

Jasper frowned at me after my statement, as if wishing I had said something differently. He nodded stiffly, clenching his jaw tightly as he looked away from me. How terrible it must be for him, knowing that his own mother—or so he believed—had no idea who he was. And considering everything that Ginny had told me about this young boy and how he felt everything deeper than most his age, he must have been taking it extremely hard. Again, I felt a stab of unexplainable guilt in my chest.

Just then, as if right on cue, Pam bustled into the bedroom. Her cinnamon hair was wrapped up in a high ponytail in a pale yellow ribbon, matching her pastel daisy yellow dress. She was beautiful and tanned, like she'd spent the majority of her time outside. When she saw Haden wrapped securely around me and Jasper standing to the side with his hands in his pockets, she sighed. I couldn't imagine how hard it must be for her, suddenly taking the entire family and holding them upon her shoulders.

"Come along, boys," she called, a tired smile brightening her sun-kissed face.

Jasper sighed and began to trudge toward Pamela, head bowed.

"Haden," Pam said to the young boy, still latched to my form, "it's time for studies. Kiss your mama and come on downstairs with me and your brother, please."

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Haden wrinkled his nose in distaste, shaking his head stubbornly and burying his head in my stomach.

"Studies?" I questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," affirmed Pam and then covered her mouth. "Oh, forgive me, I keep forgetting. As their nanny, I'm also responsible for teaching them."

I scoffed, staring at her incredulously.

"I would never—"

Pam cut me off briskly, as if knowing I would do this.

"Oh, but you did," she confirmed, giving me a small smile and holding up one finger. "On one condition—I teach them both Muggle education and Wizard education. Wizard studies before lunch, Muggle after until you or Draco get home from work."

"Oh," I managed.

I had so many questions about my life. One was Pamela. The very presence of her surprised me. I had always envisioned my children attending primary school just as I had before I received my Hogwarts letter, but it seemed that Draco and I had agreed on Pamela instead. And it seemed that Pamela was a very important piece in this family dynamic, like the younger sister I'd always wanted but had never been blessed with. But instead of being a sister, she was the Malfoy nanny and the teacher to my children.

"I don't want to," Haden moaned, interrupting my frenzied thoughts.

"Haden, darling," I whispered and he gazed up at me, "you need to do what Miss Pamela tells you to do."

The young boy pouted in the most adorable fashion, one that was hard to resist, but when I raised my eyebrows at him knowingly like my mother used to do with me when I had tried the very same thing, he kissed me quickly on the cheek, said, "Yes, Mummy", and plowed out the door.

The young nanny sent me a grateful look and shut the door behind her. I could only imagine what a handful the boys must be and I had only met them yesterday—well, in _my_ mind I had. I glanced at my bedside table and the lamp I'd left on all night, and at the photo album I still couldn't find the spine to open. Next to it was a framed picture of me in a wedding dress, Draco Malfoy's arm cradled around me, looking charming and handsome. When I set the picture back down on the table, I noticed the drawer of the nightstand was open a crack and pulled it open further.

Inside it was my worn copy of _Hogwarts, A History, _a notepad and pen, and—

"My wand!" I exclaimed happily, holding it securely to my chest.

With a relieved sigh, I removed the covers from my middle and stretched as my bare feet sunk into the carpet. I sauntered over to the balcony doors, stifling a yawn as I threw the doors open. The morning breeze licked my face warmly and the sun greeted me like an old friend, erasing momentarily the jumbled feelings that had erupted inside me during my dream.

As I turned and walked toward the bathroom, I regarded my dream, my eyebrows furrowing as I did so. It had been a very perplexing and confusing dream. I had brought the memory of before my wedding to Ron into my dream, allowing my mother to help me prepare to take the next step in my life as a woman, but I'd felt oddly out of place and I couldn't explain why. I had felt sick and surreal next to Ron, standing before the priest that would bind our lives together for eternity—I didn't believe in divorce, after all—and I couldn't explain that feeling either. It was familiar—that feeling I had experienced—but I was sure, both back then and now, that it had only been pre-wedding jitters; everyone got them.

But then Draco had appeared in my dream and all of that confusion and stomach clenching had disappeared. I had never dreamt about Draco Malfoy before, except for one instance in fifth year where I dreamed he was making fun of my hair, but that didn't really count in my opinion.

I was also mildly surprised by the appearance of 'Destiny' in my dream. 'Destiny' was a story my mother had told me when I was younger and couldn't make decisions well— the story had been passed down for generations in our family—about a beautiful lady, or "angel" as my mother would call her, with the magical powers to change someone's future, past, or present by helping them make decisions. Being a spiritual woman, my mother had told me that whenever I had a question or a decision I couldn't find an answer to, to ask the Angel of Destiny to point me in the right direction. But I had always been a logical realist like my father and struggled for some time coming to terms with her story.

Still, Destiny had been in my dream. After all, I had asked Destiny what to do—which I never did—when the priest asked if I took Ron as my husband and then spontaneously turned into Draco Malfoy. I scoffed. It was so absurd. Dreams were just dreams; they meant nothing at all.

Shaking my head, I turned the knob to the bathroom and slipped in, quickly running the water in the shower as I peeled off my pajamas. The water was warm and inviting on my skin and I closed my eyes, relaxing as much as I could in this foreign setting.

When my shower was over, I wrapped a fluffy white towel around my body and stepped out of the shower, shaking my mane of honey tresses and heading for the closet. The closet was larger than I had thought it was last night, like something you'd see right out of one of those high class movies. From what I could tell, the right side of the closet belonged to Draco, with its rows of neatly pressed slacks, sleek and elegant robes, and an array of dress shirts. There was a shelf with his shoes and belts next to his clothing and there were, surprisingly, a multitude of Muggle clothing on his side of the closet, which confused me. Malfoy owned Muggle clothing?

I turned to the left and was greeted with my side, which was far more diverse than any man's wardrobe, including the posh and fashionable Draco Malfoy. I had everything ranging from T-shirts and ripped jeans to tightly pressed silk blouses and elegant, floor length gowns. My shoe rack was full of shoes of all varieties— strappy heels, sexy stilettos, worn Converse, running sneakers, slippers, flats. Saying that Draco Malfoy liked to spoil his wife—even if he formerly hated her with all the fires of Hell—was a complete understatement.

Because I certainly would never have bought this much for myself.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I walked over to the rack of clothes and plucked out the first thing that caught my eye—a simple but beautiful salmon pink fitted blouse. I threw it on, along with a pair of jeans. Muttering a quick spell, I dried my hair, happy to discover that my hair had stayed tame. As odd as it sounded, age had done me well.

After fixing my hair into a nice up-do, I exited my bedroom and explored the upstairs hallways, eventually coming to a stop in front of a door that was left slightly ajar. Curious, I stepped inside. I didn't see the harm; it was my house after all, right?

When I entered the room, I was stunned. Rich, dark wood paneled the walls and the whole right side was lined in fine art and photographs. A small forest green leather couch stood in front of a nicely decorated coffee table. There was a rather large wooden desk beside a large bay window with heavy green drapes. On the desk was an oval silver backed frame with a picture of Draco and me, arms curled tightly around each other's waist, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Behind our star-struck selves was the iron beauty that was the Eifel Tower.

He had taken me to _France_? I looked closely at the picture. We were both still very young, but I had a ring on my left finger, as did he. So, we'd already been married when this photo had been taken.

I shuddered away from the picture, amazed by how real it looked.

"Merlin," I suddenly breathed, taking in the rest of the study.

Had Draco Malfoy thrown a tantrum or something?

A leather chair was knocked halfway across the room from the desk; the one solitary bookcase in the room was half empty due to the majority of its books being strewn across the room, several of their pages ripped out; and the coffee table—I hadn't noticed the damage when I'd first skimmed over it because I hadn't seen the other side of it, obscured by the couch—had a splintered leg. A black and emerald vase, which obviously held some prominent significance, was huddled brokenly in the corner, bathed in the shadows of the couch.

A memory stirred in the back of my mind. Yesterday, when Malfoy had come home from work and discovered that I didn't remember a thing about our so called married life together, he had left hurriedly, claiming he needed 'some air'. A few minutes after he had left, I had heard a loud crashing noise, as if someone had overturned a piece of furniture. I now realized where the sound had come from. Malfoy had destroyed his office.

Mouth agape, I removed my wand from my pocket and swiftly began to repair the abused victims of Draco's rage.

"Reparo," I muttered finally, flicking my wand at the shattered vase in the corner.

It jumped back to life, all of its pieces together again. I set it down in the middle of the coffee table, where I assumed it had been previously. I didn't know what else to do, so I left his study behind.

As I walked down the stairs, listening closely for Pam's voice, I began to think about Draco and his reaction to me the previous day. He had seemed so genuinely worried for me. It made me shudder to think that he actually cared about me. Could it really be possible for someone like him to change his entire life around, everything he once was and everything he once knew, and fall in love with someone like _me_? It was one thing for me to find the goodness in someone, which I suppose I could find in Draco if I looked hard enough, but Draco do the same? The thought was inconceivable. From my memories of him, all he cared about was himself and his status in society. And he would rather turn up dead in a pile of rubbish than marry the likes of someone of my status.

And that was why I knew this all had to be a dream. Or a very sick and twisted alternate dimension.

"All right, Haden," came Pam's voice and I listened carefully, following her southern drawl, "I want you to pronounce the spell one more time."

There was a bored sigh, which I knew only too well from my own experiences with unchallenging spells.

"Reparo," said Haden calmly from somewhere to my right.

Instead of going left like I normally would to get to the kitchen, I crept into the hallway to my right and opened the first door I found. I quietly stepped into the room, trying not to draw notice to myself.

My jaw dropped as I looked around. It was a_ library_, almost as perfect and ancient in appearance as Hogwarts'. There were so many books! Of course, this was my future home and I would have a plethora of books, but really, this was exceptional. Draco had to be a reader, too, otherwise, this library wouldn't have been so gigantic.

Seated at a circular wooden table was Jasper, slumped in his seat as he doodled absently in his notebook, a copy of spells propped up by his elbow. I instantly warmed in pride. My children, no matter who their father was, no matter how crazy a dimension they lived in, would be advanced when they attended Hogwarts; just like I had been—probably even better.

At my entrance, the boys and Pamela both turned toward me, giving me questioning looks.

"I-I was wondering if I could—well, I don't have anything to—do you, that is, do you mind if I—?" I stuttered.

Pam gave an understanding nod, seeing the bored and unsure expression on my face.

"Of course," she said kindly. "I was just working on a few simple spell pronunciations with Haden; Jasper already completed his for the hour and now he is reviewing and copying down his texts."

By the disgruntled look on Jasper's face and the tone of Pam's voice, I detected that she was leaving out something important. From what I could sense from the blond boy and his grumpy, dissatisfied expression, he had obviously gotten angry about something, possibly caused some trouble, and was now being 'punished' by copying the words from his textbook. I knew this because several of my teachers had forced unruly students in my grades to do this. I distantly wondered if Jasper's reaction to learning was because of his insecurities—from what Pam had previously told me, Jasper was envious and embarrassed over his younger brother's intelligence.

Deciding it was best that I stayed out of it, I scanned the bookshelves and took a seat near the large window, crossing my legs. For the next few hours I immersed myself inside the pages of _Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo, thinking that the 1463 page book might keep me distracted for a while—it did. Occasionally I would peer over the top of the book and my eyes would wander toward the two little boys across the room, mixing ingredients in miniature cauldrons and burying their noses in their books. It had begun to already feel incredibly real to me—the idea of having a child—and that terrified me more than I could comprehend.

When the dark wood grandfather clock against the wall of the library struck four o'clock with a deep, groaning boom, I nearly startled out of my seat. It had been so quiet for the past hour as the boys did their math homework, that I had almost completely forgotten they were there. I swooped down to pick up _Les Miserables,_ which had fallen ungracefully to the ground in my surprise.

Jasper yawned widely, stretching his long arms over his head. He helped Pamela return the textbooks to their normal spots in the bookshelves before ruffling his brother's chestnut hair, all resentment gone.

"Mummy, can we go over to Sam and Dillan's?" little Haden asked, slapping his brother's hands away and skipping over to me.

"Who?" I wondered, my brow furrowing as my eyes sought Pam's.

"They're two Muggle neighborhood boys they like to play with," Pam answered lightly.

I smiled in response and returned my eyes to the boy in front of me.

"Sure," I told him with a smile and he began bobbing up and down happily, but then I remembered that I also had a husband now, so I quickly added, "but be back by-"

"We'll be back when Dad gets home, I know, Mum," Jasper said determinedly, his ocher eyes flickering casually to me. "Don't worry."

I was speechless. Had we really had this conversation that many time before that he just knew what was coming or did he really know me that well?

"Bye, Mummy!" Haden gushed and wrapped his tiny arms tightly around my waist before dragging his brother out of the library.

Several seconds later I heard the front doors shut on their departure. I sighed.

"Why won't Jasper look at me or hug me like Haden does? Has he always been that distant?" I asked Pamela suddenly, my eyes still glued to the spot the boys had previously been. "Or does he think I don't care about him? It breaks my heart to think that those boys don't know I love them. It can't possibly be that; I wouldn't let that happen."

"No, ma'am—" Pam began, but I quickly silenced her with my raised hand.

"Please, I'm certain I've asked you before to call me Hermione, haven't I?" I said knowingly and the redhead American blushed, smirking.

"I'm sorry, it's just a habit I was raised on," she laughed.

"I understand. Won't you go on?" I offered.

"I'll tell you if you come help me make some dinner," Pam compromised and I smiled, grateful for the opportunity to do something useful with my time. "Harry and Ginny are coming over for dinner tonight, so we're making extra."

This news brought a wide grin to my face and I beamed at the thought. It seemed strange that they were now married with children of their own, when mere hours ago they had barely gotten back together. I followed her through the hallway and into the black tiled kitchen, resting my elbows on the granite countertops as Pam maneuvered her way through cupboards and drawers.

"You can make the salad and cut up the zucchini," Pam said, tossing an array of materials toward me, "and I'll make the chicken and answer your questions."

"Sounds fair enough," I agreed, curling my fingers around the knife and smacking a carrot down on the cutting board.

Brushing away a few strands of cinnamon hair from her eyes, Pamela began her tale.

"Jazzy is afraid that you're going back to the way you used to be, I reckon," Pam explained, lighting the stove.

"The way I used to be?" I prompted, waiting for an explanation.

"When you were depressed, I mean," Pam clarified, opening the package of raw chicken and cutting it into individual strips.

I gaped at her, my eyes widening. Had I heard her correctly?

"Depressed?"

With a sigh, Pam shook her head.

"You were depressed for a time while you were pregnant with Haden and for about a year after his birth," Pam explained, shaking her head sadly. "It wasn't easy for you and it wasn't easy on Jasper, since he was always the child that—"

"Was most attuned to my feelings," I finished, my voice hushed. "Why was I so depressed?"

Pam bit her lip, as if trying to decide how to go about this.

"After Jasper, you tried to have another baby, but you went through two miscarriages," she said quietly, "and that always makes a woman depressed for a while. And when you finally got pregnant with Haden, there were so many problems with the pregnancy that you were constantly in a fit of worry that you'd lose him, too. And then, after you had Haden some personal things started happenin'—"

"Pamela, won't you tell me?" I prodded.

She shook her head.

"No, Hermione," she said firmly. "That's not my place. You can ask your husband, if need be, but not me."

I was confused. So, I'd become extremely depressed when I'd miscarried, which was understandable; anyone would be. Then I had had complications with my pregnancy with Haden, which was also understandable for depression, especially with previous miscarriages and raging hormones. But what other thing had happened to make me depressed enough to worry my son who was no more than four at that time, at the most? The only dreadful thing I could imagine was that someone had died. I only prayed I was wrong.

"So, tell me about you," I proposed, alleviating the pressure of the previous conversation from Pam, which she appeared incredibly thankful for. "How'd you convince me to hire you as a nanny?"

Pamela laughed heartily as she stirred the sizzling chicken around the pan.

"Well, I'm originally from America, as you could probably have guessed by my accent," Pam continued, shrugging. "I lived in the poor side of Savannah, Georgia with my mama, her abusive drunk of a boyfriend, and my baby sister, Franny. My mama had a drug problem and she was never entirely there while I was growin' up, in more than one way."

I couldn't suppress the surprised look that had jumped onto my face. It was evident from the way she talked that Pamela was from the poorer side of the south, but I had never imagined someone had actually gone through that much. I immediately felt sorry for her and realized why she had seemed so tough-skinned to me when I had first met her—well, met her in my mind.

"The boyfriend up and left, thankfully," Pam continued, smirking bitterly. "When I was seventeen, my mama finally told me who my real dad was, the same night she told me she was dyin' and we were goin' to be evicted the next mornin'. She hadn't paid the bills in months, hadn't told me she'd been fired from her job at the local diner—but that really wasn't much of a surprise considering how high she was—and we couldn't just keep livin' off my small minimum wage paycheck. Social services came and picked up my baby sister and I left my mama in that shack of a town after she died. Then, I worked two or three jobs to pay for a ticket to England so I could find out who my dad was. I was a stupid, seventeen year old girl with no future and no past; I only wanted to find the man who had helped in conceivin' me and give him a piece of my mind—and inside I always hoped that he'd take me in and make up for all the time we'd lost, but that was just me being a stupid seventeen year old girl."

She continued on about her troubled past and I could tell that telling me was hard for her, but it was also evident that she needed to talk about it. I couldn't say that I understood what she had been through because both of my parents were wonderful and fairly modest in wealth, but I did understand how it felt when you had a secret that you needed to talk about occasionally.

"When I came to London, I searched everywhere, livin' in dirty motels and hostels as I looked for him. I was accepted at St. Mungo's, but they wouldn't let me do anythin' other than clerical work because they didn't trust me, which I understand now, but it only upset me as a kid. I had always dreamed of being a Healer and I'd begun studyin' and preparin' for it since I was six. I went to school at Bryant's Academy of Magic in New York as a scholarship student until I could pay for all my books with my job. I was damn good at magic, especially Potions, and I worked harder than I ever had while I school, knowin' that I needed to impress people in my future if I wanted to be a Healer. But it apparently didn't matter."

Pam sighed heavily, rubbing her temples.

"When I finally found my dad, I discovered that he was married to a stripper named Laurie and had three children from a different marriage, all of which were livin' happily somewhere else with his ex-wife," Pam said, shaking her head as she added spices to the chicken. "He looked me in the face and told me I looked just like my whore of a mother and that he wanted nothin' to do with me, which is why he up and left in the first place. He told me he never wanted to see my filthy face ever again and slammed the door in my face. After that I walked for miles and miles. I spent that entire night cryin' in some alleyway, soaked to the bone in rain."

I noticed that my hand had jumped up to cover my mouth in repulsion. As Pam turned around to face me, I quickly grabbed the knife again and continued to slice the vegetables.

"And then my silent prayers were answered," Pam said softly, her bitter tone replaced by a loving one. My eyes flickered toward her again and she gave me a small smile. "You found me."

I paused my cutting.

"Really?" My voice was hoarse as I asked her this.

She nodded.

"You and your husband found me in the alleyway that night and took me to your place. At first I hated you for your wealth, your loving nature, the way you cared for me," Pam remembered and I felt the heat flushing my face rouge. "I was a stubborn, tough-skinned Southern kid who'd only known pain and hatefulness her entire life and in one night, you'd changed my entire look on life. You, a stranger, took me in, trusted me, and gave me everything I needed."

I stared at her, positively blown away by her story. How could someone endure such a life and come out as great as she had? I had no idea how I might have handled it if I had been put in her position, but then again, I'd experienced my fair share of troubles.

"When you took me in and helped me back on my feet, you were pregnant with Haden," Pam continued. "I'd been there two nights when you had your first complications with your pregnancy. You'd started bleeding profusely durin' the night and we didn't have a clue why. You were panickin' and hyperventilatin', screamin' at your husband that you couldn't lose another baby again, you just wouldn't make it. And I came in, fixed you up a calming potion, and looked at your problem. I was sure that you had Placenta Previa, but I couldn't be sure so after I gave you a few extra potions, we took you into the hospital. Sure enough, I was correct. They put you on strict bed-rest and wanted to charge you up the wall on Potion costs, but since I already knew how to make the potions to perfection, I told you that if you'd let me stick around a bit more, I could help you. You agreed and within a few weeks, you were back to normal."

"Wow," I breathed, clutching my stomach. "You saved Haden."

Pam shrugged modestly, blushing to the roots of her hair.

"Well, I just did what I had to," Pam responded. "Anyway, that's how it happened. After you were better, you pleaded with me to stay and I did. I fell in love with Jasper and would watch over him and teach him things while you were on bed rest and your husband worked, I helped you deliver Haden when he came too early, and I helped you take care of him when you were on bed rest after giving birth due to severe hemorrhaging during labor. As the years went on, you suggested that I just quit my stupid job at St. Mungo's and just stay at the house. I offered to pay rent, but after discussing it with Draco, the pair of you agreed to privately educate the children and that you'd pay me if I stayed and became the nanny of your kids while you went back to work—"

At this, I perked up.

"You mean I hadn't been working?"

This struck me as odd.

"You were depressed when you were carrying Haden and so you were given the option to take some time off. You needed a release," Pam explained softly. "It wasn't what you wanted to do at first, but Draco convinced you to take some time off eventually. He said it would be good for you. It was."

I regarded her carefully for a few minutes. I was on the verge of asking her what exactly I did for a living when the fireplace chimed, alerting me of the arrival of someone using Floo. Surprised, I glanced up at Pamela, who didn't seem fazed at all. I turned around, hopping off the stool I was seated on, and walked curiously over to the doorway, staring out into the living room. I was mildly taken aback when I saw Draco Malfoy emerge from the green flames and step onto the carpet, brushing off his black robes.

He looked tired and stressed and when his slate gray eyes locked with mine, the expression only worsened. Was I really that much of a stressor in his life? Again, for the hundredth time that day, I felt unexplainably guilty.

"H-Hello," I offered squeakily as he passed.

"Good evening," he replied nonchalantly and, without another word, bounded up the stairs and out of sight.

As I entered the kitchen again, Pam gave me a sympathetic look.

"Is he—is he all right?" I asked her curiously.

"He probably just had a really rough day at work," she theorized offhandedly, shrugging.

I looked at her skeptically.

"Do you really think that?" I challenged.

She took a deep breath and turned around, frowning.

"No, but I wasn't goin' to say anythin'."

"Please, Pam," I urged and she sighed again. "The last thing I need right now is someone keeping secrets from me."

"Well, frankly, I think his heart is breakin'," she answered, switching off the stove and dumping the chicken onto a porcelain plate.

"His heart…breaking?"

"Yes, I think you're breakin' his heart," she told me bluntly and my breath hitched in my chest.

Was it possible that I was breaking Draco Malfoy's heart? Was he even capable of feeling heartbreak? Sometimes, I really had to wonder. But not lately. Now, I was starting to wonder if I'd been wrong about him all along.

"Mum, we're home!" Jasper called suddenly and I was thrown from my reverie.

"Just on time," I answered, watching as the blond boy hurried upstairs like his father had minutes before.

Haden came swinging into the kitchen, beaming as always, and wrapped his arms around me.

"I had a fun time, Mummy!" Haden declared happily. "They asked us to stay for dinner, but Jasper told them that we had to go home."

"Your brother did the right thing, then," Pam announced, ruffling the boy's hair as she went to set the table in the room adjacent to the kitchen. "I hope you listened to him like a good boy."

"I did!" huffed Haden proudly, poking out his chest and pouting. "Mummy, is Daddy home yet?"

"Yes, he's upstairs," I answered carefully.

"I have a present for him!" Haden giggled and beckoned me closer. I leaned in and he fished in the pocket of his denim jeans.

"A seashell?" I inquired, staring down at the bright green seashell in the boy's little hand.

"Not just any seashell, Mummy," Haden laughed, like it was the stupidest thing he'd heard me say. "Daddy likes the green ones. It's his favorite color."

"That is very thoughtful," I told him. "I'm sure he'll love it."

But even as I said it, I felt as if I was chewing pins and needles—I often felt this sensation when I lied. I truly had no idea if it was true or not. Because, as I stood there peering down into the smiling face of my future son, I could honestly say that I had no idea what Draco Malfoy loved. I had no idea who my husband really was.


	7. Goodnight Stars

_**Destiny **_

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**Disclaimer**: I own nothing from Harry Potter, unfortunately.

**A/N:** Thank you to my ever faithful reviewers! Now, I know this can get a tad confusing—it's supposed to be, since Hermione is confused and it is in her point of view—and hopefully I can answer any questions in the later chapters, but if you have a question, feel free to ask and I will answer to the best of my ability! So, without further ado…Enjoy!

-Annie

P.S.—Yes, there will be Dramione action soon enough. Be patient with your dear writer.

* * *

Goodnight Stars

* * *

When the doorbell rang several minutes later, I was inside the kitchen completing the last touches of the salad.

"Do you want me to answer it?" Pam asked me, pausing her movements.

I regarded her for several seconds, but made up my mind as the doorbell rang again. Someone is impatient, I thought amusedly.

"No, I'll get it," I assured her and passed the bowl of green lettuce toward her. "You finish the rest of the salad."

I swallowed, my throat feeling suddenly dry. As I approached the front doors, I heard footsteps from upstairs, followed by Haden's excited cries.

"Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny are here!" he exclaimed from somewhere upstairs. "Come on, Jazz! They're here!"

"I heard you the first time, Haystack," was Jasper's mumbled response.

The doors screeched open against the wood floors and a swift brush of summer air swatted me in the face, but the sensation was far from unpleasant.

"Well, there we go!" Ginny exclaimed, pecking me on the cheek as she busted into the house as if it were her second home. "I thought you were going to leave us standing out there all night!"

I grinned, rolling my eyes at the boisterous redhead. Little James cooed, giving me a wide and lopsided smile as he clung to his mother's form. I was nearly knocked sideways when a flourish of long red hair whipped over me as Lily danced her way past.

"Where are Jasper and Haden?" she wondered.

"They're upstairs," I replied, still amazed by how much she reminded me of Ginny, and she immediately started up the stairs.

"Lily, it's almost dinner!" Ginny reproved, calling up to her daughter, but she didn't listen. With a huff, Ginny turned to me, shaking her head in amusement. "I swear, that girl acts just like me when I was her age."

"I was just thinking the same thing," I teased, earning a swat from Ginny.

"I'm glad to see you're in a better humor," she identified, smirking.

Just then, a new presence entered the house, closing the doors behind him. He was a handsome man of average height, a few inches taller than I, with a strong jaw, startling green eyes framed by black rimmed glasses, and a mop of messy onyx black hair. He was dressed in jeans and a navy plaid shirt, its sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Although slightly altered by age, I instantly knew who this man was. Nothing could ever take his face out of my mind.

"Harry," I whispered happily, my smile broadening as I stared at the familiar face.

His trademark smile lit up his face and he rushed toward me, enveloping me in a strong and secure hug, picking me up off the ground with such force, the air flew out of my lungs with a powerful _whoosh_.

"Harry—can't—breathe!" I gasped, whacking his shoulder.

He gave a hearty laugh and set me down on the ground again. Once he looked into my eyes, however, the grin disappeared, replaced by frown of concern. I felt my heart droop. I was really growing tired of that expression.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I feel just fine," I answered truthfully. "Except for…well, you know, the gaping hole in my memory."

"I've given you the entire week off from work, so you don't have to worry about that. I hope you don't mind, but Gin's filled me in on everything," Harry said.

"I don't mind."

The boys and Lily took that moment to hurry down the stairs, laughing at something I hadn't heard. Running a hand through his messy mop of hair, Harry sighed and pulled me aside as the children rushed past.

"Wash your hands before dinner, now," I heard Pam instruct.

Turning back to Harry, I smiled half-heartedly, but he remained stoic and pensive.

"Hermione, you know I care about you," Harry told me sincerely, "and you know how much I worry—"

"Yes," I interrupted, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from a rant I knew was about to start, "but you have no reason to worry over me, Harry. I'm fine. I just—"

"Have no memory of anything that's happened in the last eleven years," he finished, crossing his arms. "Hermione, have you even thought about seeing a Healer? This isn't normal. Despite what you might think and how stubborn you are, this type of thing does not happen regularly. When a woman like you loses all recollection of who she's been for the past eleven years, a bloke has to worry. Don't stand here and act like everything is alright, Hermione, because it's most definitely not."

I'd involuntarily stiffened at his fierce tone, looking away. He was right, of course.

"Harry, calm down," I admonished and he blew out a puff of exasperated air. "I realize you are worried and I'm doing the best I can—"

"No, you bloody well aren't," Harry scoffed, but at my glare, his tone and eyes softened. "Hermione, you need to see a Healer."

"I don't need a doctor; Pamela is perfectly able to take care—" I argued listlessly, but Harry once again interrupted me.

"Pam is wonderful," he agreed, "but it would make everyone feel much better if you looked for a second opinion. Even Pam, bless her southern heart, doesn't know what is wrong with you. You need to see a professional."

My disdain for visiting the hospital apparently showed on my face because Harry gripped my shoulders with firm, loving hands and looked straight into my eyes.

"Promise me you will see a Healer, 'Mione," Harry pleaded.

"Oh, very well," I submitted, irritated.

He grinned cheekily and ruffled my hair good-naturedly.

"Thank you," he said and then his eyes flickered upward, past my shoulder. "Draco, good to see you."

"Evening," came the drawled reply.

I turned around, watching as the handsome blond sauntered gracefully down the stairs, a smirk that didn't reach his eyes toying with his lips. His steel gray eyes briefly met with mine and then returned to the guests. He approached Harry, shaking hands with him. I had to say, I was incredibly surprised by this exchange, although I knew I shouldn't be—if I was married to Draco Malfoy, why couldn't Harry be on handshaking terms with him? He was my husband, after all.

"Daddy! Daddy!" came a cry from the kitchen.

I stumbled as Haden darted past me, issuing a hurried, "Sorry, Mummy!" as he sped past, flinging himself into a startled Draco Malfoy's arms. Malfoy teetered only slightly, but quickly recovered from his shock, adjusting the chestnut haired boy in his arms.

"Hi, buddy," Malfoy laughed, sounding winded. His gray eyes, which had looked so pained and dark as he stared into mine seconds previous, now shined brightly as he regarded his son. "How was your day?"

"I had fun, Daddy!" the little boy chirped. "I went to Sam and Dillan's and I read about Goblins! They're weird, Daddy! They have pointy ears and wrinkly skin and they're always grumpy."

At this, Malfoy laughed, as did Harry and Ginny. I felt a smile creeping up the edges of my lips, but I was mostly just shocked. I'd never really seen Malfoy sincerely smile, but he was now smiling, and it was an incredible sight to behold. But what startled me the most was the expression in his eyes—love. I'd seen a flurry of expressions within those quicksilver eyes in the past—fury, mockery, agitation, pride—but this was a foreign emotion I had not rendered Malfoy capable of expressing.

I didn't know why this surprised me so much considering all the new expressions I'd seen in his eyes recently.

"Daddy, I have a present for you," Haden informed his father, digging in his pocket.

"A present for me?" Malfoy gasped animatedly, causing the boy to giggle as he pulled out the green seashell and presented it to his father. Malfoy beamed, laughing deeply as he took the green shell from the delighted boy. "You got this for me, buddy?"

"Yep! Do you like it?" Haden asked, jumping down from Malfoy's arms.

"It's the best gift I've ever gotten," Malfoy assured, patting the boy on the head. "Thank you."

I gaped, but I quickly recovered as Malfoy peered over at me.

"Did you get anything for your mother?" asked Malfoy, turning back to the boy, who immediately gasped and shook his head, his eyes wide as saucers.

"No!" he whispered dramatically. "I forgot!"

Malfoy only smiled at the boy, bending down and whispering in his ear, "It'll be our secret. How about you find something nice for Mummy, too?"

"Okay!" Haden said, accepting the challenge.

My eyes flickered between them and I felt a choking warmth encircle my heart. When Malfoy straightened again, his eyes met with mine briefly. I couldn't explain why, but in that instant I felt extremely moved by him. Something stirred within me, warming my veins. Was I feeling sorry for Mafoy?

I frowned, realizing then that I was being completely ridiculous about all of this. Despite our past and despite my negative feelings for the man, Malfoy was still a human being with feelings, and as odd as it sounded, I was the source of his heartache. I found myself wishing I could do something to help him, but I didn't know how. He expected a wife that loved and accepted him. But I was no longer her.

"Dinner is ready," announced Pam, coming into the foyer and interrupting my thoughts.

Our eyes strayed away from each other as Haden dragged Malfoy into the dining room. I followed behind Ginny and James, still sitting on her hip, waved to me happily. Before I entered the dining room, Harry pulled me aside again.

"'Mione, I know this is tough for you," Harry murmered in my ear, "but go easy on him. He loves you. Even I know that."

With a sigh, I parted from the man that was like a brother to me and entered the dining room. I sat down next to Harry, just as Malfoy sat down at the head of the table, looking uncomfortable.

"Daddy, why aren't you sitting by Mummy?" Haden suddenly asked, confused as his gray eyes drifted between me and Malfoy.

I'd forgotten we were a family and probably had seating arrangements. It was only normal for a man to sit by his wife, yet Malfoy and I suddenly weren't and it concerned the young boy.

"Are you fighting?" Haden wondered, pouting.

My heart clenched.

"No, you idiot. It's because Mum doesn't remember him," snapped Jasper from his brother's side, glaring heatedly at his plate of chicken.

"That's enough, young man," Pam chastised, smacking her palm down on the wooden table. "You've been in a sour mood all day and I'll have no more of it."

Jasper's chin quaked and he set it stubbornly, refusing to apologize. My heart called out for him, hating his pain. It was so abnormal, this feeling I had when I looked upon Haden and Jasper. It was as if all logic flew out the window and all there remained was the depth of love I had for these boys, as if they were my own.

It was the first time I'd been able to look at them and not be terrified of failing them, of their dependence on me, or of my lack of maternal experience. Or the fact that I was not ready to have children in the slightest and hadn't planned on doing so for years to come.

But as Jasper glared at his plate and Haden pouted, the love I had for them and the connection we seemed to share with one another began to take more prominence than my fear. I found that I wanted to help them, teach them, be there for them.

Surprisingly, I found my small voice speaking.

"It's okay, Draco. You can sit by me," I said, trying my best to keep my voice from trembling.

There was a stunned silence as Draco stared at me with wide, rain colored eyes. Then, silently, he rose from his seat and walked over to the empty seat on my right. I thought I saw his hands trembling slightly as he slipped into the chair next to mine and folded his napkin in his lap. I stared at my plate, my cheeks flaring at his intense gaze.

It wasn't until everyone else had filled their plates that I felt comfortable enough to do the same. I realized I was famished.

Jasper, Draco, and I were the only ones not involved in the conversations at the table, all of us remaining silent. I was surprised when Malfoy turned his head toward me, leaning in somewhat shyly, and spoke to me.

"How was your day?" he asked quietly, unsurely.

"It was nice, thank you," I replied uncertainly.

Was I really having a civilized conversation with Draco Malfoy? At a dinner table?

"Oh, please," Pam scoffed with an affectionate smile, brushing a few stray locks from her creamy cheeks. "Don't let her fool you. She was bored out of her mind."

"I was not," I argued, but Pam sent me an eye roll.

"Uh-huh," she chuckled.

Suddenly, there was a loud clattering noise as a glass of water suddenly crashed to the ground near Jasper's feet. The blond boy shot out of his seat, eyes ablaze in annoyance as he swiped at his shirt, now drenched in water. Beside him, Lily's eyes were wide.

"Knock it off you little brat!" Jasper exploded, turning on Lily with accusing eyes.

"It was an accident," Lily said softly.

"And you wonder why I never like sitting with you," Jasper growled. "You're always doing stuff like—"

"Jasper!" both Darco and I exclaimed at the same time, mine more of instinct and surprise and his more of habit.

I quickly glanced at Draco, but he was staring at the blond boy in exasperation.

"Apologize, now," he instructed sternly.

"Why should I?" Jasper countered, folding his arms. "She's the one that's been throwing food at me!"

"Here we go again," Ginny mumbled from across the table, rubbing her temples.

"Jasper, apologize to Lily."

Everyone was mildly surprised when I confronted Jasper, but no one was more shocked than Jasper and me. At first, I thought he wasn't going to do it; he just stared at me with those soulful brown eyes.

"No?" I continued, keeping my voice steady even though my hands visibly shook.

I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn't a parent. I didn't really have experience with kids.

_Think of your parents,_ I thought frantically. _Just act as they did with you._

"Well, then perhaps you should go to your room and think about your actions."

Jasper remained in his seat, challenging me as if to question my authority over him since I'd lost my memory. Steeling myself, I wiped my face clean of emotion and clasped my hands together to stop their shaking.

"Quite frankly, I am appalled at your behavior today and I know for certain I would not raise my children to be so ill-mannered and unkind," I said softly in disappointment. "You will go to your room and think about what you have done and you will apologize to Lily."

"But Mum, that's not fair!" Jasper protested angrily, losing his resolve. "She always gets away with everything!"

"Lily is not your responsibility, Jasper, and she knows just as well as you that there are consequences for your actions. I expect you to take responsibility for yourself and do as I say."

"Fine," he snapped and turned to Lily. "Sorry."

Then, shooting me one last glare, he bounded out of the dining room and up the stairs. Moments later a door slammed.

_Silence._

Across the table, Ginny grinned at me in satisfaction. Next to me, Draco sat in a daze, staring at me as if he'd seen a ghost. After a few minutes Harry cleared his throat, issuing the end of the awkward quiet.

"Have you talked to the Italian ministry about the case I gave you, yet?" Harry asked Draco and Draco slowly turned to Harry, forgetting me as he joined his conversation.

"I don't think you understand how _hard_ it is to reach Minister Fucini," Draco responded, his eyes twitching in irriation. "Last week I sent him five ruddy owls and he still hasn't responded to—"

Ginny cut them off by making a deep, guttural sound within her throat. Her eyes met mine and I nearly laughed at the expression in them.

"Men and their work, I swear," she muttered to me and then turned toward the two men. "How about you boys go on upstairs to Draco's study and have your little pow-wow while 'Mione and I have ours."

"Oh, I need to help Pamela with the dishes," I protested politely as the men got up and retreated upstairs.

"Absolutely not," Pam said, swatting my hand away. "I've got it taken care of. You just relax."

_Why is everyone babying me? It's not like I lost a leg. I'm perfectly capable of doing dishes!_ I wanted to scream, but instead I let Ginny steer me away, breathing slowly and reminding myself to remain calm.

"Lily, why don't you go help Pamela in the kitchen?" Ginny suggested, giving her daughter a knowing glance. "I will discuss your little stunt at dinner once we get home."

"It was an accident," Lily responded but Ginny narrowed her eyes and Lily huffed. "Okay, well maybe it wasn't, but still!"

"Dishes, _now_," Ginny said, pointed to the kitchen where Haden had hopped onto a stool and was dunking bowls into soapy water and giggling profusely.

Ginny and I took a seat on the couch in the living room and I stared absently at the mantel above the fireplace, my eyes falling onto the picture of my parents.

"Hey, Gin?" I asked.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"Where do I work?"

Ginny giggled, smacking her forehead.

"Of course!" she laughed before patting my knee. "I forgot you didn't know. You work in the Auror Department."

"I—_what_?"

Me? An _Auror?_ Had the world gone absolutely _mad?_

"You're currently a trainer and recruiter," Ginny explained.

"That's impossible," I argued, tucking a strand of tawny hair behind my ear as I tried to picture me going on missions, taking down criminals, recruiting naive teenagers from Hogwarts. "I'm—I mean I _was—_working for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"I'm well aware of your former position," Ginny told me. "But now you work for the Auror Department."

"How the hell did _that_ happen?" I wondered. "That had never appealed to me. I've always pictured myself doing something in research, mainly. Going out and fighting crime was always more of Harry's thing."

"It certainly was, but there were certain things that caused you to re-think your career path. To be fair, at first you started out mostly in the interrogation department, building research and interviewing criminals, but when Harry was elected Head in 2007, you were his first choice for an upper-level position and you became a trainer. You don't do much field work unless you are needed."

This reassured me. That didn't sound so awful or unrealistic.

"I always knew it was a matter of time before Harry took over Robards position," I said, happy at my friend's success. "And Ron? What's become of him?"

"He still works for the Auror Department," Ginny answered cryptically, refusing to give me more information, which angered me.

He may not be my husband anymore but I deserved to know why that was and what had happened.

"And you? Are you still playing for the Hollyhead Harpies?" I inquired, dropping it for the moment.

"No. I'm the Senior Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet," Ginny replied with a smile.

"Why the change? You loved playing for them," I wondered.

"I was benched because of an injury and by the time I was well enough to play again, the economy had hit a pretty bad snag," Ginny explained. "It hit the Quidditch industry really hard. After a while the smaller teams that weren't as popular, like the Hollyhead Harpies, were discontinued."

"_What?"_ I gasped. "You mean to tell me that _Quidditch_ went out of business? How does that even _happen?"_

"Don't be so dramatic," Ginny laughed. "We were never that great of a team. Anyway, after that I worked at a few different places before I was offered a position at the _Daily Prophet_."

"And how do you like that?"

"It took some getting used to, I'll admit," Ginny replied, thinking back. "I was always a very active person so at first the desk job didn't seem too flattering, but it wasn't all that bad. I got to travel a lot and attend a lot of games. I could write my articles from home most of the time after I had my kids, so that is always helpful."

"And Draco?" I wondered. "What does he do?"

"Draco works as a senior executive for the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

I blinked and Ginny smirked. "Weren't expecting that, were you?"

"That's extremely impressive," I stated admiringly. "I'd imagine he does a very good job in that department. I heard Harry and him discussing some case matters at dinner. Do he and Harry work often with each other?"

"From time to time; it depends on if the Auror department needs to get involved for security measures or if they have a case that needs the Magical Cooperation's involvement."

I processed this in my mind for several minutes, wondering how this future could be so…strangely nice.

"Hermione," Ginny finally said with a small smile, taking my hand, "I understand that you have no memory of anything before this, but you're breaking everyone's heart by staying so aloof."

I was stunned by the sudden change in conversation.

"Gin, I-I can't just _pretend_ to be in love with Draco Malfoy—"

"I'm not asking you to, 'Mione," Ginny assured me. "I'm asking you to have a heart. Maybe trying to develop a relationship with people isn't such a bad thing and could help you regain your memory. If not, at least you'll have support and feel more comfortable. Talk to them. Love them. Your family is quickly falling apart. You're what holds them all together; without you, they're lost. Especially the children."

I looked down at my hands as she said this. I loved Ginny and normally I appreciated her bluntness, but right now it was making me feel pretty lousy.

"You need to be a part of this family because whether you like it or not, you are a mother and a wife now. You have an esteemed career and you have responsibilities," Ginny continued, squeezing my hand. "I know it must be overwhelming and hard for you, but if you want to start getting better and having any chance at remembering your past, you need to be involved in your present and look forward to your future."

I sighed then, knowing she was right. Whether I agreed fully with her or not, these children needed a mother and they believed that I was theirs. I had to stop pretending that this wasn't real and that I was going to wake up the next morning safe and secure in the arms of Ronald Weasley. Maybe the only way I could return to the past I knew was to involve myself in this world.

And so what if I had no idea what was going on? So what if I had been thrown ungracefully into some kind of horrifying future that I couldn't explain? So what if yesterday I had been nineteen years old, unsure of myself and my future, uncertain of my choices? And so _what_ if I had woken up the next day, eleven years in the future, a grown woman with a career, a family, and a husband?

And _so what_ if my husband was Draco Malfoy and I had two children depending on me and a live-in nanny and my life had completely been flipped upside down and I had no idea if any of it was even real?

I took a deep breath.

I was _Hermione_, daughter of Jean and Robert Granger, top witch of my year. I had been tortured, bullied, and bruised by war my entire youth. I had destroyed a horcrux, helped Harry bring down Voldemort.

Surely, I could handle this.

"You're right," I told her firmly. "I'll try my best."

"Then you'll succeed," Ginny said with confidence and hopped off the couch. "It's getting late. We should be heading off. Will you go up there and tell Harry to come downstairs while I get the kids ready?"

I agreed with a nod and started out of the room when I heard Pamela speak.

"Gin, a word, please?"

Ginny cast a glance in my direction and I smiled tentatively, exiting the room. Once Ginny had made sure I was gone, I heard her enter the kitchen. They engaged in mumbled conversation that I couldn't hear. I took a step closer to the kitchen.

"Look, I'm not stupid. I get we are trying to shelter her from a lot of heavy topics right now, okay? Losing the last eleven years is overwhelming enough without throwing _that_ in there."

I started. What was '_that'?_

They were obviously withholding information, which frustrated me. Wouldn't it be helpful for me to know more about the last eleven years? Wouldn't that help me remember things faster?

"There are a lot of things she's not ready to hear, yet," Pamela stated blandly. "And I don't think we can handle her spiraling out of control again. We barely got her back after Haden was born."

"I agree. Look, Harry and I are sticking to what we promised you and Draco. When she's ready, we'll tell her what we can and be there for her."

"Good," Pamela exhaled. "I hate keeping things like this from her, but sometimes less is more. Especially in her state. She's very unstable right now and I don't know what might happen—"

"Pam, I know. I'll discuss it further with Harry and make it absolutely clear."

"Have you told Ron or Ariana, yet?"

"No, but we're stopping by the Burrow for Dad's birthday—I already explained the situation to Mum and Dad as to why Hermione and Draco couldn't make it— and I'm sure Ron is still there. In fact, I'm late. I've really got to get going."

Hearing her footsteps, I set off hurriedly up the stairs to fetch Harry. The men's voices were coming down the hallway toward Draco's study. I distantly remembered the way his study had been this morning when I'd walked in and found it demolished.

I was just about to knock on the partially opened door when I heard something that caught my attention.

"All seriousness, now, Draco," Harry was saying ruefully. "Truly, how are you?"

There was a long pause before Draco answered, "I'm fine."

"Malfoy, don't toss around with me here," Harry said firmly.

"Well, bloody hell, Potter, you don't beat around the bush, do you?" Draco snapped.

"No, now out with it," Harry demanded.

There was a heavy sigh from inside the office, which obviously belonged to Draco.

"It's been rough," he admitted. "I haven't been able to concentrate fully all day, I didn't get a wink of sleep last night—I stayed awake all night in the guest room, staring up at the ceiling, remembering everything—everything that she can no longer recall. And, mind you, that guest bed does not sleep well."

"You look like hell slapped you in the face," Harry commented and I frowned.

"I feel like hell has slapped me in the face. It feels as if I'm a complete wreck," Draco stated bitterly.

"Well, honestly, for someone who's a complete wreck, you don't seem to show it much," Harry noticed.

There was a slight chuckle.

"One of the blessings of being a Malfoy is that no one can ever tell when you're hiding something."

"Except Hermione, of course," Harry said.

There was another heavy sigh.

"She's always been able to see straight through me. It used to infuriate me to no end, but eventually I got used to the concept of being with someone, truly. She made me see things in different ways and she was the only one that believed in me enough to make me who I am today. Without her, I'd probably be lying in a ditch somewhere."

A sound of clinking glasses echoed through the hallway.

"She's certainly worked a miracle with you, in my opinion," Harry remarked. "You used to be a sodding arse. No, never mind. You're still a sodding arse."

"Oh, bugger off, Potter," Draco laughed.

They were suddenly silent, so I took that moment to rap lightly on the door.

"Come in," answered Draco.

I pushed open the door all the way and cleared my throat. Both Harry and Malfoy leapt to their feet, a glass of butterbeer in their hand. I met Draco's gaze before looking pointedly at Harry.

"Harry, Ginny wants you downstairs," I said quietly.

"Right, I should be leaving anyway. I'll see you tomorrow," he said quickly to Draco and they shook hands once more.

Before stepping into the hallway, Harry pulled me into a crushing hug.

"I know I said this before, but go easy on him, Hermione. He's a different man now, even if he's a prick. One that loves you very much," he whispered.

I watched him disappear down the hallway and turned slowly to face Draco. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black trousers and he was staring at me with the oddest expression.

Thankfully, I was provided with a distraction as Haden and Jasper scampered up the stairs and plowed into the hallway.

"Mummy, you read us a story?" Haden asked, tugging on my arm.

I stuttered. Draco hurried over to Haden and scooped him up into his arms, giving him a smile.

"Come here, champ. I'll read to you, tonight. How does that sound?" he proposed.

"Yay!" Haden shouted, locking his arms around his neck happily. "Babbity Rabbity, please?"

I glanced at Jasper, who looked less than pleased.

"You in, Jazz?" Draco asked, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yeah, Dad, I'll be there in a second," Jasper said and Draco nodded, his eyes flickering toward me again before disappearing down the hallway with Haden wriggling in his arms.

Jasper then turned to me, his big brown eyes boring into mine with an intensity beyond his years.

"I love you, Mum. I hope you at least remember that."

His voice cracked as he said this and my heart broke.

I nodded, wondering if I should hug him, but I remained rooted to the spot.

"I'm sorry for dinner," he said finally and I watched as he followed his father's footsteps and disappeared behind the corner. Swallowing roughly, I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

Shaking my head, I walked down the hallway and turned the corner, heading back to my room for the evening to wallow. But as soon as I turned the corner, I heard the strangest thing.

"Read it again, Daddy!" Haden giggled.

"What do you say, Jazz?" Draco asked.

I peered into the room I heard their voices coming from. It was definitely a boy's room. There were two beds, one on either side of the large, blue-walled room. The most fascinating thing about the room, other than all the Quidditch merchandise and the many posters of the Tutshill Tornadoes, was the ceiling which was covered in a plethora of stars and constellations, all of which were charmed to move across the ceiling.

My eyes fell upon Malfoy, seated on the edge of Haden's bed, a book in his hands. Jasper was in the process of climbing into his navy blue bed, unlike his brother who was already tucked firmly inside his sky blue comforters.

"Sure," Jasper replied. "I like this one."

To say that I was moved by this scene would be a very gross understatement. Clutching my bursting heart, I stumbled to my room and quickly changed and washed my face. Crawling into the warmth of the silk sheets, I only then realized how empty I felt sleeping there alone.


	8. Pondering Sands

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter, unfortunately.

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Thank you for your wonderful reviews. They make me feel great! I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to update this. I will try not to make the next update so long! And how are we today, everyone? Looking forward to a new update? Well, here it is! Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Pondering Sands

* * *

The sun felt glorifying warm as it drifted over my eyes and fell upon my cheek, lightly kissing me good morning. I smiled, enjoying the breeze of the summer morning as it trailed in through my open balcony doors. Opening my eyes, I was greeted with a brightness that made me smile.

My back gave a loud crack as I stretched my arms above my head, the muscles in my shoulders rolling wonderfully. I had slept well in the massive plush bed and my body thanked me for it, but I still couldn't shake the bizarre feeling of loneliness I had felt last night before slipping into oblivion. Trying to push the budding feeling in my heart away, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood, my feet sinking into the cream colored carpet.

Somewhat unhappily, I realized that my surroundings—rich red walls, large kind sized bed, mahogany dresser—were still the same. I sighed as I realized this and wondered if I was ever going to return to Ron and somewhere familiar. I hoped it would be soon because I was starting to get used to the strange world I was being held captive in. And that terrified me.

The clock on the nightstand read ten twenty-three. Had I really slept in until ten in the morning? The longest I ever let myself sleep into was nine o'clock and even that was pushing it. I couldn't stand waking up to a day half gone already—it made me feel as if I was wasting my life away until it was nothing but forgotten dust in the distance.

As I was toweling off from my shower minutes later, I suddenly realized that I had no idea what to do. Yesterday had been an interesting but very wasteful day to me. Pam had been correct when she'd declared that I had been bored out of my mind. But yesterday everything was still somewhat new to me. Today was different.

I didn't want to spend the remainder of my afternoon spending my time with my nose in a book—a surprising feeling for me, since I usually loved to do this—while my children studied charms and grammar. I wanted to _do_ something. I was sure that if I had to be cooped up inside this colossal house, I would surely go thoroughly and utterly insane.

As soon as I touched the wood floors of the downstairs level, I was greeted by two arms encircling my waist.

"Hi, Mummy!" greeted Haden happily, grinning up at me.

A surprised gurgle of a laugh escaped my lips and I smiled down at the small boy. I affectionately patted his head of chestnut curls, gaining an even larger smile. When he detached himself from me, he fixed his wire-rimmed glasses and began bobbing up and down.

"Morning, Miss Sleepy," Pamela said, exiting the kitchen with a smirk.

I went tomato red at her statement and she smiled wryly in response.

"Don't worry about it," she said, giving me a quick hug which I returned a half second too late from my surprise. "It's not every day a gal gets to sleep in. Enjoy it."

My retort was lost in my throat as Jasper joined us in the foyer.

_Do something, Hermione,_ the annoying voice in my head commanded and I wanted to scream at it to shut its infernal mouth, but I kept my tongue perfectly silent. I smiled easily at Jasper, waving at him in a hopefully friendly manner.

"Morning," I greeted kindly with a smile.

"Good morning," Jasper said slowly and although I could still see uncertainty and pain in his eyes, his voice was less heavy and he stood taller as he gazed at me.

"I was thinking about taking the boys to the beach," Pam told me, shouldering her beach bag. "Hope you don't mind, I kind of promised them I would, since they studied so well yesterday. And the weather's been so warm lately, the water should be amiable enough to swim."

"No, absolutely," I laughed, waving my hand toward the door. "It's summer. Go ahead and have some fun. You need the sunshine."

She nodded with a smile, ushering the boys toward the door.

"You need sunshine too, don't forget," Pam hinted and opened the door.

As the door swung open, Pam let out a rather loud shriek as a fist collided with her nose.

"Bloody hell!" swore Ginny, lunging toward Pam. "Pammy! I am so sorry! Since when do you fill in for the door?"

"Damn it, Ginny, that hurt," Pamela moaned, glaring at her fellow redhead.

_Honestly,_ I thought,_ redheads and their mouths!_

"Mind your language," I reminded them sternly, gesturing to the boys.

"It's okay," Jasper said, shrugging. "It's not like we haven't heard a swear word before, Mum."

"That still doesn't change our policy on swear words," Pamela sighed. "Sorry, Hermione. It just slipped."

"But Dad's sworn before, even you, Mum. I just don't see the big deal," Jasper continued.

I had a feeling that he was going to be a difficult teenager in a few years.

"That doesn't make it okay," Haden said, glancing up at me for approval, poking his brother in the ribs. "Swear words make us sound not smart."

"Why do I suddenly feel 'not smart'?" Ginny asked jokingly, running a hand through her short red hair.

Still holding her nose, Pam instructed the boys to say their goodbyes and head toward the beach. After giving me a tight hug, Haden bounced out the door after Pam. Jasper rolled his eyes and began to walk out the doorway, but he paused and turned to look at me. Again, I'd noticed that my voice had spoken without my permission.

"Jasper, wait," I called, waving him over to me. He obliged.

"Yeah, Mum?" he wondered.

And then I was hugging him, not knowing why on earth I was doing it, but doing it nonetheless. His body stiffened at the contact, most likely in shock, but relaxed almost at once, his shoulder sagging. When I broke the embrace, he was staring up at me with wide honey eyes, awaiting an explanation.

"I love you, Jazz," I told him, my voice shaking only slightly.

His face lit up like someone had hardwired him to a voltage system and lit a happy fuse inside of him. A bright smile broke across his slender, pale face and the edges of his eyes crinkled as he grinned, all uncertainty and pain gone.

"You do?"

This broke my heart. Was I that terrible of a mother that my own child couldn't tell I loved him? He had to _ask?_ But I wasn't being fair. I had 'lost my memory' and therefore, in his mind, lost all feeling associated with those memories.

"Yes, I do," I said and for some reason, it didn't feel like I was pretending. I did love him, as strange as that sounded.

"I love you too, Mum," Jasper whispered, hugging me again, all his guarded fears from before washed away by my declaration.

I watched as he followed Pam and his brother out the door, closing it behind him. Ginny, who was standing by the stairs and had obviously just witnessed the encounter between Jasper and me, smiled.

"That's what I like to see," Ginny said. "That's what I like to call improvement."

I rolled my eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired curiously.

"I've been up all morning and finished my article early. I called my mum and asked if she'd mind taking the kids for a few hours," Ginny explained. "I thought I'd come see how my best friend was doing and—Oh!"

Ginny suddenly buckled over, her sweaty palm making squeaky noises on the sleek wooden banister as she slid down to the floor, clutching her stomach. I dropped to my knees beside her.

"Gin? Are you okay?" I asked, alarmed by the sudden change in the redhead. "What's wrong? Do you need some water?"

I felt her forehead, but she didn't feel warm. She felt clammy.

"Ugh, no," Ginny moaned, brushing my hands away. She looked pale and sickly. "Just give me a moment."

I let her have her moment and waited. Eventually, she returned to her normal peachy coloring and I let go of the breath I'd been holding. Using me as her clutch, she rose to her feet, gradually gaining her energy and spunk back.

"Hate it when that happens," she laughed hollowly.

"Do you mind explaining to me what just happened?" I asked, worried.

"It's been going on all week now," Ginny explained. "I've been getting incredibly nauseated throughout the day and I threw up this morning. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Do you need to sit down? Can I get you anything?" I asked, but Ginny shook her head.

"Stop worrying about me, 'Mione. I'm fine, I promise," she assured me, patting me on the shoulder. "So, what's your plan for the day?"

I sighed.

"Nothing," I admitted grudgingly.

"We can't have that!" Ginny exclaimed, steering me toward the door. "Grab your purse, my sweet—we are going to party!"

I was a little dazed by her sudden exuberance as she practically dragged me out of the large black doors. I only had a miniscule second to snatch the purse hanging on the coat rack before darting out the door with her. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, I felt suddenly surreal, as if I was floating above myself. I realized that this was the first time I'd really been outside of the manor I now resided; I had never seen the outside of the house. My curiosity gaining the upper hand, I turned around and stole a glance back at my future home. And nearly died of shock.

The manor was not a castle, as I had previously assumed from the interior. Instead, it was a very large and beautiful Victorian mansion with marble balconies, white shutters, and two large black doors. The lawn was vast and lush with jade green grassy blades full of health and vigor. On the front porch stood two rocking chairs with faded blue pillows, a patio table with four chairs, and a cushioned porch swing. The walkway that Ginny had dragged me down—which lead to a wrought iron gate tangled in belladonna and a tree-lined street that wrapped around to the beach—was surrounded by a variety of brightly colored blossoms.

"Yeah, that was my first reaction, too," Ginny said when I attempted to speak, uttering a small squeaking sound as my fingers brushed delicately on the perfectly trimmed boxwood. "I need to stop by the market to grab a few things—your town sells the best berries. Plus, I'm making Harry a special dessert tonight since we have the evening free. I want everything to be perfect—that includes the food."

With a musical laugh, she pulled me away from the colonial mansion and down the block. It was a quaint little town with tall tudor houses and beautiful meadows. The pavement beneath my feet was warm and speckled gold with sunshine, determined weeds with purple petals straining themselves upward through the cracks to bathe in the light.

"This town is so pretty," I breathed, my nose greedily drinking in the heavenly scent of the rushing sea in the distance and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the open windows of a pastry shop. "It's like something straight out of a story book."

"Yes, well, leave it up to you to find a town as beautiful as this one," Ginny remarked with a knowing smirk.

"And I'm assuming it was up to Draco to find a house as ostentatious as that one?" I guessed, jerking my thumb back in the direction we'd come from. The house was now hidden within the tall trees and shrubbery.

"Well, Draco would have inherited Malfoy Manor through his will, but Narcissa was still living inside it, and even though she offered to give you and Draco the East Wing, he declined. Both of you wanted a house of your own," Ginny explained. "So, of course Draco wanted something large like what he was used to at home, but you wouldn't allow him to buy anything horridly massive like the Manor."

"How'd we ever find this town, anyway?" I wondered, still gazing around the town square in awe.

"You and Draco actually got lost on your way to an amusement park one afternoon for your cousin's birthday and happened across this area. You fell so madly in love with it that you insisted Draco buy a house here. And then, knowing Draco, he went out and found the largest house in the town," Ginny chuckled, swinging her red hair as she threw back her head at the amusing memory of it all.

"This town is so oddly familiar," I sighed, "but I'm most certain that I've never seen it before."

Ginny turned toward me with a faint smile and said, "You first told me when you took me on a tour of the town that it reminded you of a village in Nice, France that you'd visited in the summer before third year."

"Oh, yes!" I exclaimed, remembering the beautiful French villa my parents had rented out for the summer on the beach. "It was so wonderful. I miss France so much."

It was true. I did indeed miss France. I had only been once during the summer before my third year with my parents. We'd spent the entire summer travelling to different areas in France—Bordeaux, Marseille, Nice, Paris, Toulouse—and I never once got bored with it. In every new area it was more beautiful than the previous town. Paris had been my favorite, though. We had saved Paris for last and I lavished in the lights of the Eifel and the sound of the street musicians for an entire week before finally flying back to England.

I had always wished to go back and the moment I returned home, I began to save money for my reunion trip with the city of love. But then the war had come and all of my dreams and hopes of vacationing and losing myself within the depths of that romantic city were shattered. Instead, I funded my money into a flat for Ron and I and the wedding. By the time we had everything planned for the wedding, we'd only had enough to manage reservations at a small and charming bed and breakfast in Wales. Sometimes I had wished that I had put off the wedding for a few months and gone to France, but I knew that I would have wanted Ron to come with me since we were engaged, and even then I did not have enough money for two tickets.

"What are you doing here?" cried a voice suddenly, breaking my thoughts from my favorite city and spitting me back into the world of reality.

I looked about uncertainly, my eyes searching for Ginny; she was arguing with a fruit vendor about the price of raspberries. She obviously had not been the one who had spoken, so I continued my search. But I was suddenly plowed into by a swarm of curly dark hair as a tall woman carrying a basket grabbed my arm.

"Wh-What—Who are you?" I stammered, side-stepping her embrace.

"Hermione, what on earth are you doing here?" she demanded, smiling widely. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I-It's my day off," I replied, still unsure of who this woman was. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The woman eyed me carefully, as if she was trying to see if I was joking or not. She must've seen that I wasn't because she stepped back and the hand that had been locked excitedly around my wrist fell limply to her side. Her royal blue eyes flashed suddenly with concern.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered and I knew at once I'd bizarrely wounded her feelings. "I completely forgot; I feel like an idiot. I heard about your condition from Ron last night after Arthur's birthday."

I jumped the the mention of Ron. This woman knew Ron? Who was she?

"Ari, angel!" hollered Ginny, bouncing into the picture again and giving the dark haired woman a swift peck on the cheek. "What in the blazes are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting my cousin for the day—you remember Vivian, don't you?" the woman opposite Ginny said.

"Isn't she that darling girl with the long blond hair?" Ginny recalled, snapping her fingers. "Yes, I remember! She was engaged to that dashing young doctor, am I right?"

"Yes, John," the woman replied with a laugh, nodding.

"Did they already get hitched?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No, actually," the woman responded. "She wanted to wait until she got her promotion, just so that they could start off with a better income. That's actually why I'm up here; she wanted me to help her look for a wedding dress—there's this really nice lady who sews dresses for really cheap in the town over. She wanted my professional opinion."

"Because working in a bridal salon in Paris as a teenager must mean you are the next wedding dress guru," Ginny laughed sarcastically. "So, your cousin lives here permanently, then?"

"She's staying in Blackpool with John and his family until they can get their own place," the woman said. "Hermione was actually the one that suggested we stop by that lady's salon."

It was then that the dark haired woman turned her brilliantly dark blue eyes toward me again and smiled sadly. It was a look that I was all too familiar with by now and one that I had grown to despise with every bone in my body.

"Oh, bloody hell, I feel like such a ditz!" Ginny exclaimed, smacking her palm to her forehead. "Hermione's lost her memory—I'm sure Ron has told you, yes?—and she can't remember a single thing. Can you imagine how difficult that must be, losing your memory of the last eleven years? She thinks that she still hates Draco. The last memory she has before it all goes black in her mind is her getting married to Ron, can you imagine?"

"She thinks she's marrying Ron?" the woman gasped.

"Oh, no, of course not," Ginny backpedaled quickly. "That is the only memory she still has, of when she was engaged to him. But she knows she's married to Draco. I mean, she has seen her kids and stuff."

_I am standing right here,_ I wanted to screech. Instead, I cleared my throat loudly, hoping they would get the hint—they did.

"Oh, Hermione, this is our good friend Ariana," introduced Ginny, pointing to the slender woman with the tumbling dark hair and the shadowy blue eyes. "Actually, she was your friend before mine, but whatever."

"I don't really know what to say," I answered hollowly as Ariana smiled in a concerned fashion.

"You don't have to say anything," Ariana comforted, taking my hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. "We met when you came to France the summer before you and Draco were married."

"Really?" I gasped. I remembered Ginny telling me that I had broken things off with Ron and flown to Paris for the summer to set my mind on track. I thought she'd distantly told me that in Paris I also ran into Draco Malfoy and that was how we had somehow managed to fall in love, but she'd never mentioned this woman.

"Yes," Ariana chuckled. If I listened closely, I could hear a twinge of a French accent. "I was working at the Louvre Museum of Art in Paris at the time as a tour guide, since my father was its curator. That's where I met you. You understood little French, but you desperately wanted to learn, so I offered you lessons and we would meet at the café near your hotel every Tuesday for several hours. I was attending University at the time, taking some summer courses, and my tutoring you helped boost my grade. Eventually, we became the best of friends and would spend every day together."

"If it hadn't been for Ariana, you might never have fallen in love with Draco, actually," Ginny said and Ariana nodded.

"You and I went dancing at a local club that I practically had to _drag_ you to—I was quite the wild child back in the day—and that's where you ran into Draco. I saw the way he looked at you as you turned around and instantly recognized him. He was captivated by your very presence," Ariana giggled. "I'd been off and on again with his friend Blaise and set up a little double date that both of you didn't realize you were being dragged into. You nearly bit off my head in the process, but at the end of the night, our plan had worked. You two were socializing like civil individuals. Soon enough, we were spending the entire summer together. Things between me and Blaise never did work out, though. We were so opposite each other and eventually both fell in love with other people."

I shook my head, feeling a familiar tremble in my stomach, remembering the picture I saw on Draco's desk while in his study. I suddenly felt very weak. I dared not speak lest I say something I might later regret.

"So, are you coming back to work tomorrow, Hermione?" Ariana asked after a moment of awkward silence.

I opened my mouth to respond when Ginny interrupted.

"Oh, not for a while, I would imagine," Ginny said, answering for me. I narrowed my eyes at her. She was grating on my last nerve today.

"Actually, I am," I corrected, causing Ginny's jaw to drop down.

"You _are?_" she gasped. "Since when?"

"I was thinking about it this morning, actually," I fibbed. Well, it wasn't really a fib. I had been thinking about my workplace. And the decision to return to work hadn't all been impulsive. I needed to get out of the house, after all.

Ariana grinned and looped her arm in mine. "I can train you, if you like. Show you the ropes of what we do every day. We work together every day, so it shouldn't be too much of a hassle for either of us. I'll talk to Harry about it in the morning—or actually, Ginny would you mind telling Harry later tonight? You know how he gets when he isn't included."

Ginny rolled her eyes, knowing it was true.

"Fine, I will, but you're making this very hard on me," Ginny joked. "He's going to have a tantrum when he realizes that Hermione is returning to work without visiting St. Mungo's for clearance. He'll get all put out, claiming a bunch of nonsense about briefing and classified information, and then our special dinner will be ruined."

"Then, by all means, tell him to schedule me a ruddy appointment himself!" I growled, not liking the idea of visiting the infirmary to see if something was wrong with my head when I knew there wasn't.

"That will make him happy. Perhaps my dinner won't be ruined after all," Ginny stated with a saucy grin. Looping her arm through mine and Ariana's, she hauled us both toward the market. "Come now, girls, it's up to you to help me convince that raspberry vendor that he's selling his berries at far too high a price!"

* * *

The sand was toasty under my feet, seeping in through my toes as I wiggled them through the grainy, golden warmth. The sun was dripping downward toward the horizon, casting a shimmering orange glow across the ocean. I breathed in the smell of the ocean, feeling my muscles relax inside me. I could get used to life like this.

Next to me in the sand sat the photo album that had been resting on my nightstand for quite some time now. Draco was working late, so I took it upon me to take Haden and Jasper to the beach, even though they had already been earlier that day with Pamela. I decided, though, that Pamela needed a break from the boys. Plus, it was time I started trying to make my mark in these little boys' lives. No matter how much I wanted to forget it, I _was_ their mother.

The burgundy leather bound photo album sat in my lap, longing for my touch, waiting to be opened so it could reveal all of its secrets. With a tight throat, I swallowed painfully and flipped the cover over. It was definitely a magical photo album, for all the pictures moved.

My eyes rested on the first picture, one that I had seen before in Draco's office. Draco and I were standing in front of the Eifel tower, looking starry-eyed and happy, our arms wrapped around each other. Below it, in my curvy handwriting, it said, _Honeymooning In Paris._ The next picture consisted of Draco and me in front of our new house, still fairly young, glossy eyed, and beaming, waving to the camera excitedly. Under the picture, in my familiar cursive scribble read, _Our First Home._ I flipped to the next page, which held a picture of me in overalls and a yellow bandana, wavering on an unsteady ladder with a paint roller, soaked in blue paint, in my hand. The ladder teetered and I began to wobble dangerously, splattering the floor with dark blue paint. Draco suddenly darted into the picture as I toppled into his outstretched arms. The camera caught both our shocked faces and suddenly I burst into bawdy laughter at the blue handprint on his cheek. Under the photo read, _Preparing For Baby Jasper._

The next picture was of me, looking worn and haggard in a Muggle hospital gown, holding a yawning baby in a blue blanket to my chest. Next to me was Malfoy, his face lit up by a glowing grin. In the picture, I shifted toward him with an encouraging smile and he unsurely took the babe in his arms, smiling down at the tiny boy in his large hands. Under the photo it said, Welcome To The World Jasper Lucius Malfoy, June 2. The next was a picture of Jasper's second birthday, where he ended up throwing his birthday cake at Malfoy, laughing hysterically. There was a picture of Jasper learning how to read as I showed him various pictures in The Beetle and the Bard. And then, a picture of Malfoy teaching Jasper how to ride a broomstick.

After several pages, I paused at another photo. It was a picture of Draco holding a new baby boy, a stray tear trickling down his pale cheek as he smiled down at him. He and the baby sat in a hospital chair as I dozed in the bed beside him, a small Jasper curled up contently by my side. The photo read, _Welcome Haden Robert Malfoy, November 8_. The next picture was of me in the garden outside the house, planting various seeds. I was stabbing the soil furiously with a shovel, determined, sweaty, and dirty faced. It was labeled, _Burying Frustrations Away._

I quirked an eyebrow and then remembered that I had taken up gardening after my "personal problems" had struck up. I continued shifting through various photos until I finally came to the last picture, a picture of Pamela, me, Draco, and the boys. We were all playing at the beach. Draco was giving Haden a piggy-back ride as Jasper splashed Pam and me with water, all of us laughing—_Beach Fun_.

"Haystack, come on!" shouted Jasper suddenly, causing me to close the leather book with a snap.

Haden ignored his brother, waving him off as he squatted by the small, foamy waves. His small hand curled around something and he eyed it carefully before breaking into a triumphant grin.

"Jazz, I found one for Mummy!" he exclaimed, waving his tiny arm exuberantly. The small boy's brother rolled his eyes at the distraction, flopping back into the waves to float on his back as he waited for his little brother to join him again.

Haden darted toward me and I smiled as he careened into me, knocking me into the sand. He grabbed my hand and plopped something jagged and smooth in my palm, squeezing it shut.

"Mummy, I got you one," Haden told me and gestured for me to open my hand. "It's just like Daddy's, except it's your favorite color!"

I slowly opened my palm and gazed down at the object Haden had placed in my hand. It was a seashell, almost identical to the one he had given to Draco the day previous. Except instead of it being green, as Malfoy's had been, it was a bright and shiny purple. I clutched the seashell close to my heart as the little boy hugged me and returned to his brother in the water, fighting unexplainable tears all the while.

What was this strange feeling? And why did it feel so normal?


	9. Into The Rushes

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from this series.

A/N: Hello, all my wonderful reviewers and readers! Tale as old as time, thank you once again for your amazing reviews and encouragement—it means so much to hear your thoughts! I know the last chapter was a little choppy at some parts, so I'll probably go back and change a few minor things about it later on, but right now I'm not too concerned about that. I know a lot of you are sad, probably, because you didn't see any Draco in the previous chapter, but do not be too depressed—he is in this one, I promise!

On another note, I think I need to let everyone know that Hermione truly believes that she hates Draco…it's not as if she can just say "hey, I love the guy", you know? It's a slow process, because she woke up thinking she still hated him and realized she suddenly has a whole future with the man she hated. So, it's not an easy adjustment. But there will be a moment in the upcoming chapters that will be a HUGE turning point in Hermione's feelings for Draco, so don't fret—Hermione is not always going to be cold-hearted toward the man that bullied her in school. But I can't give too much away, so just keep reading and you'll soon see.

Haha, thanks again for all the reviews and if you have any questions, let me know and I'll answer them to the best of my ability! Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Into The Rushes

* * *

"Are you positive that you are ready to go back to work?"

I slapped my fork down on the wooden table in the dining room. Pamela sat across from me, playing with the pancakes on her syrup coated plate, pushing them around with her fork. Her mossy eyes were wide and worried, etched with the same infuriating concern that they'd had in them for days now. When were people going to stop looking at me like I was infected with some kind of disease and I was going to drop dead or crack my head open at any faltering second?

"Merlin help me, Pamela, if you do not stop asking me if I'm well enough to work, I will clock you over the head with my breakfast plate and haul you to St. Mungo's in my place," I threatened.

Pam's eyes widened, alarmed by the sudden change in my attitude. The boys snickered into their oatmeal. For the past week I had been nothing but confused, doe-eyed, and courteously polite to all the members in my new life. This morning, however, I had woken up with a fierce determination to stop living in the clouds, pretending that none of this was real—it obviously was—and to just go with it.

Now, I sat at the table in a black pencil skirt with a modest slit on the side for easier movement, a fitted button-up plum blouse, and a silk black robe fastened closed with a pearl brooch. My wand sat leisurely by my hand, resting on the wooden table. I curled my fingers around my wand, took in a calming breath, and stood up abruptly, causing the legs of the chair to scrape across the wooden floor.

"I will be_ fine_," I insisted, pushing in my chair.

"I never said you wouldn't be," she said quietly and instantly I felt horrible for how I had acted. "You know how I worry."

"No, actually," I whispered, so softly I didn't know if she could even hear me, "I don't."

I felt horribly anxious to be going to an occupation that I was supposedly so fantastic at and yet had no idea what to do in that occupation anymore. What if I failed? Would I get sacked? What if they gave me special treatment because of my "predicament"? Would I screw up everything I'd worked so hard over the years to accomplish?

_Stop it, Hermione,_ I thought viciously, _Harry is Head Auror. He won't let you fail or screw up everything. If anything, he'll be more understanding than you'll want him to be and try and baby you to death the whole day._

I knew it was true. Harry had always been so protective of me. I knew he would never let me feel bad with all the stress going on in my life right now.

"Bye, Mummy!" Haden said, squirming to a standing position in his seat so that he could wrap his small arms around my neck and give me a tight squeeze.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," I said, kissing his forehead and running my fingers through his chestnut locks.

"I'll miss you, Mum," said Jasper when I turned to embrace him.

"Oh, I'll miss you too, Jasper," I smiled, flushing at his statement.

Warmth enveloped my entire body as he stroked my cheek with his small fingers and flashed me a private smile, just for my eyes. I said my last goodbyes for the morning and exited the dining room, feeling an instant emptiness in my belly once I realized I would not be spending the day with those beautiful boys I'd become so attached to so quickly. But I knew I had to do this. I had to keep going and moving forward. Work would let me keep a clear head and keep my focus on other things. It always did.

I made my way into the living room and toward the large fireplace, glancing briefly at the pictures of the Malfoys and my parents. My eyes, as if of their own accord, stumbled over the picture of Draco Malfoy and I and our children. I swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly as I gazed at Draco's arm, woven tightly around my waist.

"Oh, um—Er—Morning."

I spun around, my hand jumping to my chest in my mild fright. My heart crashed and thudded around in my chest, pounding hard on my ribcage.

_Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump._

"M-Mal—I mean—What are you doing here?" I stammered.

"I'm, uh, running a little late this morning," he replied, running a hand through his pale hair.

It was unnaturally disheveled this morning, as if he had had a fitful sleep and woke up only minutes ago. He also had faint stubble growing along his jaw and his luminescent gray eyes were bloodshot. He slumped slightly under my gaze, wrinkling his silk black robes ever slightly.

"I didn't know that you'd be down here," he continued.

"Yeah, I'm going in today," I told him.

"You're going back to work, you mean?" he wondered.

"Yes, I am. I thought it was about time," I explained, feeling strangely jittery, like my whole world was about to explode.

Meanwhile, Draco was stepping closer to me as I spoke. His presence was electrifying, his gait graceful and poised.

"Pamela doesn't think it's such a good idea. Neither does Harry, for that matter," I offered, and the moment I did it, I clamped my lips sealed tightly.

Why was I attempting conversation with him? Why was I putting myself in this position? The words just seemed to tumble from my tongue, escaping my lips before I could even attempt to form a coherent thought about why I was disclosing this to him.

"I think it's a brilliant idea, actually," Draco declared, giving me the smallest of smiles.

"Do you really? Or are you just trying to pacify me?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes at him skeptically.

"I believe it will be good for you to get out of this house and focus on something familiar. Well, I mean, don't you think that?"

Wasn't that exactly what I had been trying to convince myself all morning? That this was a good thing? That I needed out, needed time to focus, needed my mind clear?

"I'm starting to wonder if I'm ready to go back. I-I'm rather worried that I won't do well," I confided quietly.

_What am I doing? Why am I talking to him like this? What could possibly make me believe that he actually cares enough to listen to me babble on about my life like some silly teenage bobble-head?_

"You'll do fantastic, as always," he snorted, waving his hand like he was casting my woes aside. "I have no doubt of it, Hermione."

My throat closed again as his voice softened, taking on a kinder tone.

"And as for Pamela and Harry, they are just worried about you. You know how Potter can get," he continued calmly. "And Pam is a professional worry wart. They'll come around."

"And you?"

The two words flew from my mouth before I could stop them and I gasped, watching as his gray eyes widened.

"And me, what?"

"Nothing, never mind," I said hurriedly, brushing away my previous comment.

"No, tell me. What did you mean?"

"Nothing. Please, just forget I said anything," I sighed, turning around to face the fireplace and grab a handful of Floo powder. "I need to go to work."

"Hermione, look at me," he demanded quietly.

When I didn't turn around, I felt him take in a deep breath.

"If you meant if I am I worried about you, then yes, I'm bloody petrified in fear every night about you," Draco admitted, placing a hand on my shoulder. When I jumped, he removed his hand, clearing his throat. "But that does not take away my confidence in you. You are the most intelligent woman I have ever known. I know that you're afraid that you will not do well, but you will. I have no doubt of it."

"How—How do you know?"

Why couldn't I just shut up? Was I that lonely and that sick in the head that I needed Malfoy to put confidence in me? Had I really become so lost?

"Because you were this exact same way before you started Auror training and, again, before you started the job," he explained, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants. "And you did remarkably well, like you always do."

I swallowed again, my throat extremely dry. I still refused to look at him.

"Thanks, I guess," I whispered, shuffling my feet.

"Always," was his only reply.

"I need to go to work," I repeated dumbly, my heart jumping around chaotically.

"Of course. After you," he muttered, downcast.

I closed my fist around the Floo powder and then noticed with a cringe that I had grabbed the very last of the powder in the canister near the fireplace. All that was left of the Floo powder was a few grains.

"I seem to have taken the last of the powder," I said uncertainly, turning to face him for the first time in several minutes.

"Oh, well, that's problematic," he sighed, scratching his neck. "Never you mind. You go ahead. I'll just apparate."

"But you're already so late," I found myself saying. "If you apparate and take the phone booth down to the Ministry, you'll only be that much more late. I can't afford you losing marks on your job for my sake."

"Really, it's no problem. I'm already late," he argued.

"No," I insisted firmly, holding out my hand. "Take the powder and go. I'll apparate. I'm sure Harry will understand if I'm a tad tardy."

I flinched even as I said it, hating myself.

"Don't, Hermione. We both know how much it literally, physically pains you to be late to something," he scoffed. "Especially when you are nervous."

"Draco, I'm not joking. Take the powder," I snarled, grabbing his arm and wrenching him forward.

Alarmed, he stumbled toward me until we both crashed into the mantel, his hand reaching out to snap toward the brick of the fireplace so he wouldn't send me tumbling into the ashen pit below us. Taking this moment and using his surprise as leverage, I emptied the powder into his palm and closed his fingers shut over it.

"You're too damn proud and noble for you own good," he growled and ducked into the fireplace. "I'll take the ruddy powder, but at a price."

"Oh?" I huffed. "And what is that?"

"This."

Before I had time to react, he had me in his arms, pressed up against his chest tightly, his arms secure around me. Then, still too fast for me to move, he threw down the powder and it hissed as it sparked around our dress shoes. Suddenly, emerald flames sprung up around us, licking us pleasantly as we whirled through the network. I was so dizzy by the time we arrived at the Ministry that I had buried my head in the crook of Draco's toned arm, my eyes glued shut, my breathing shallow.

"That—That was—You—I can't even believe—" I stuttered, trying to come up with something snarky to say to him and failing quite miserably.

All I could focus on was the warmth between our bodies, pressed so close together, and that we were clinging to each other in public. I was so appalled. What if someone saw? Growling, I shook my head furiously at the thought. I was _married_ to him! No one was going to find our display appalling and heart-attack worthy. I didn't know if I was disappointed by this or relieved.

"We're here, aren't we?" he replied to my stammering, smirking only slightly.

_Aha!_ I thought with triumph. _I knew it! That same Malfoy is right in front of me. He never left. He's smirking, just as he used to! The bloody prat!_

_Of course he's still the same Malfoy, you daft dolt,_ cried the more reasonable voice in my head. _It doesn't mean he hasn't changed! You're still the same Hermione, are you not?_

I sighed. _Was_ I? Well, of course I was. I was still me. But everything was so changed and altered lately. Was it really possible for someone like Draco Malfoy to become a civilized individual? Was it possible to love me?

_You are worthy of love, you know_, the reasonable voice reminded me. I felt like slapping it.

So far, the idea of me keeping a better focus and a clearer head was not working.

_Well, you're life with Draco seems to look nice enough. And I'm sure he didn't pass out drunk at the hotel on his wedding night to you. I'm sure he raced you up to that hotel room in a breathless frenzy, threw open the door, ripped off your clothes, and ravished you until you—_

"Gah!" I hollered and wrenched myself out of his grasp, stumbling backward.

What was wrong with me? I needed to get away from him. Now.

"Erm—Well, thanks for the…lift," I said awkwardly, straightening my robes and trying to ignore the fire presently racing through my veins.

"Sure," he grunted, still recovering from my jerking absence, leaving him stumbling forward.

"I'll—Well, I'll see you at…home," I fumbled with my words, feeling incredibly windswept.

I practically ran away from him. When I came to the elevator lifts, I gulped in deep breaths, trying to calm myself. It wasn't working. I slipped into the lift and requested my floor—Level 2, The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Hermione!"

I jumped, nearly screaming all the remaining breath out of my lungs. My heart flipped around again and I gripped my chest. This was going to be such a trying day. If it turned out that there reallywasn't anything wrong with my head, then my next concern would be my poor heart. It was having a very spastic war inside me this morning. It couldn't be healthy.

"Oh, dear, I've given you a fright, haven't I?" gasped the new voice.

I turned toward the voice, crinkling my brow at the woman in front of me. She had long, tumbling curly dark hair and beetle green eyes. She grasped my hand and I scrunched my face up in confusion even more so. Then, it hit me.

"Oh, Godric," I spluttered, gripping her hand tightly as I laughed and my shock departed. "Ariana! Good gracious, I didn't even see you there. How are you?"

"I'm faring well. Much better than you, it seems," she joked lightly. "What's got you all in a jumble?"

I stepped back, drawing a piece of unruly curled hair behind my ear.

"Oh, it's nothing, really," I lied. "Just back to work jitters."

"I get those every day," she sympathized laughingly.

I smiled, enjoying her carefree, easygoing attitude. She was such a lovely woman, from what I remembered from our afternoon with Ginny on the beach the day previous. I admired her light heart and her kind but spontaneous nature.

"But I have to say, for someone who is nervous about going back to work, you're blushing an awful lot," Ariana said.

"I—W-What?" I stuttered.

"You're blushing furiously," she repeated with a wink. "And if I'm not wrong, I hardly doubt that my presence is the reason for it."

"Oh, Ariana, really," I choked, spluttering out a deranged sounding laugh.

She chuckled daintily and patted my shoulder like we were the best of friends. Honestly, I had no idea if we were or not. Of course, from what Ginny had told me, Ariana and I had become the best friends in a span of a few months. I could see why, of course. She was darling.

"So, I'll be re-teaching you all the rules and the basic training maneuvers. After all, how can we let you train our recruits if you haven't been through the same process? It shouldn't be too hard for you, considering you blew away all the Aurors on your first try when you first started training. But since you can't remember, I thought it'd only be fair," Ariana explained and I nodded in response.

"Level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," chimed the elevator as the large brass doors opened and allowed us an exit.

My stomach instantly knotted as I trailed behind Ariana's graceful prance. Several wizards and witches bowed their heads in respect to me, others called out friendly shouts, some glared.

"Just ignore them," Ariana commented.

"But why are they bowing and why are some of them glaring?"

"Because you're Hermione Granger. You were part of the trio that helped defeat Voldemort. You also helped Harry organize and strengthen the entire Auror program. The defense of this ministry would be nothing if it weren't for you and Harry putting your skills and brains together. Some are envious of you, because you only had to go through a few weeks of Auror training instead of months before getting accepted. They think it's because you are Harry's best friend, but some are jealous because they were in your training group and you were amazing, as always. They failed out and got minimal jobs, but you got one of the highest positions in the department."

I followed her down a winding corridor, ducking as a flying paper airplane zoomed past my head, carrying a message to some other department. I was envied and respected? I had always imagined being pretty far up in my position at work, but never had I imagined this kind of publicity.

"Ah, here we are," Ariana announced and opened two large cherry wood doors. "The Training Room."

It was a circular room with high peaked ceilings and wood paneled walls. The floor was made out of black granite and if I looked closely enough, I could see flecks of the most brilliant gold embedded in the stone. The crystal chandelier above glinted dazzlingly and I gawked. It was so…massive. The entire area was massive.

"How many people do you train in here?" I wondered.

"A fair few. According to Harry they had a ton that joined up after the war, but that was normal considering everyone wanted to join forces with The- Boy-Who-Lived and round up all those Death Eaters. I was in France then, so I joined a few years later when you convinced me to come to England with you," she explained.

I paced the perimeter of the room and then back to Ariana, waiting.

"Are you ready to begin your training?" she asked.

I nodded, steeling myself. Might as well get it over and done with.

"What do I have to do?" I asked.

"I'm just going to put you through some basic test procedures, put you in some situations. It's all about seeing how fast you react, if you keep cool under pressure, if you can make hard decisions when all else fails. When you've completed your task, send up a red flare."

"Okay, let's do it then," I agreed.

Within seconds, Ariana had slipped behind a glass door and suddenly, like a charm had been cast, the entire room was flooded in darkness. When I was finally able to see again, the room I had previously been in before was gone. Before me stood a vast forest, one that I remembered well—the Forbidden Forest. I took a step forward, but I stopped immediately as my foot connected with something liquid and squishy.

Under my shoe was a large puddle of silver liquid, shimmering in the moonlight. I dropped to my knees and ran my index finger along the substance, bringing it to my nose. I recognized the sickly sweet scent and the familiar silky feel on my fingers.

"Unicorn's blood," I gasped, staring at my fingers in awe.

Only something incredibly dark would injure such a pure creature and take its blood. I barely had time to react. Instantly, a cloaked figure jumped out of the shadows and advanced on me with unexplainable speed. I lurched toward a tree, barely dodging the spell. But he was fast. He twisted my arm and slammed me into the bark of a tree, scraping my cheek.

"I'm going to love killing you," he snarled.

I fought the urge to whimper. His voice was terrifyingly familiar. Antonin Dolohov, who cursed me in the Department of Mysteries in my fifth year. I couldn't even recall how many times I had had nightmares of him over the summer. But I would never let him have power over me, not again. Logic and tactics charged through my head and I knew what to do. After all, this was obviously all about thinking fast.

I went limp, as I'd been taught to do in many circumstances, which was something he did not expect. Taking my chance, I threw back my elbow and it clashed into his ribcage. He fell away with a grunt, but I was unrelenting. I rammed my fist into his face and sent him rocketing backward, giving me enough space to scramble away from him and grab my wand.

Without taking another chance, I sliced my wand through the air and stunned him, immediately binding him with ropes. I sent up a flare. And soon, the forest went black.

When I could see again, I noticed I was standing in a clearing. It was a place I had been many times before. I was standing on the vast lawn of Hogwarts castle, peering up at the crumbling stonework, watching as all my childhood memories lit up in bright orange flames. The ground shuddered, the air was pierced with horrifying shrieks, and the night sky was ablaze with ash and flashing green jets of light.

There were thousands of people around me, all in school uniforms, screaming, sobbing, fighting for their life. Hogwarts was falling once more and my friends were sacrificing themselves to save it.

Bellatrix's cackle was the thing that alerted me back to earth. She was staring me straight in the face, an evil gleam glinting in her coal black eyes. She lunged forward, cackling as I staggered backward, my wand raised. She did it again, causing the same reaction. Again.

"You're pitiful, Mudblood. I'll make you scream for me again, you little whore," she snarled, baring her crooked teeth, rotted away with years of insanity inside the cells of Azkaban.

Her words stung me and she repulsed me. My mind reeled with memories of what she had done to me in Malfoy Manor. Terror gripped me. When she blasted several curses at me, I managed to block them and send several of my own hexes toward her, clipping her shoulder and her kneecap. I was joined then by Luna and Ginny and our wands pierced the air like knives going in for the kill.

"No!" I shouted suddenly as Ginny was blasted backward.

I wanted to rush to her, but I knew that if I did that, I would be abandoning Luna to Bellatrix's hands.

And I knew that if I was going to pass this, I would have to remain focused on the target and clear-headed.

Luckily the spell was not incredibly harmful and I was able to quickly stun Bellatrix and reach my friend to hoist her up.

"Harry! _No!_" Ginny suddenly cried out, strangled.

I turned just in time to see Harry ricochet backward, smashing into a tall window on the third floor before ripping through the air downward toward the ground below him. He met the ground with a shattering crack.

And then I saw him. He seemed so real, so much more vivid than when he appeared in my nightmares. Reptilian scarlet eyes, two slits for a nose, skin as pale as death, and a sneer that only meant one thing: Death.

Voldemort raised his deathly wand and in one fatal blow, he took away Harry's life in a gleam of bright green light.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to race right to Voldemort and fight him till the death—whether it be mine or his, I did not care. But somehow, remarkably, I remembered Harry telling me to be strong, remembered Ginny declaring that love was worth fighting for but sometimes you had to be brave enough to remain standing. I would do no one any good by giving my life to Voldemort. If we had any chance at winning this without Harry—even if the chances were slim to none—I would fight.

I could not let the death of the ones I loved take me away from my mission.

And suddenly, it was all too real. I was back in Hogwarts on May 2, 1998, fighting for my life, freedom, and hope.

Steeling myself, I turned so that I was back to back with Ginny and began stunning as many Death Eaters as I could, engaging myself in battles I knew I could help with.

And then it was no more.

Suddenly, I found myself in a completely different place. I was in a living room. A very familiar living room. On the peach colored wall was a professional drawing of the Eifel Tower, sketched specially for my mother when my family and I vacationed in France before my third year. This was the living room of my parent's house in Whitby.

"Hermione, dear, I've made some tea," called a matronly voice.

"Mum!" I cried, dashing into the kitchen.

But she was nowhere to be found.

"Mum?" I called again, waiting for her reply.

And then, all of a sudden, I realized my mistake. I could smell it in the air all around me. Polyjuice Potion. When I turned around and faced my mother, I raised my wand at her. I ignored her beautiful smile, ignored her familiar vanilla and strawberry scent. She was not my mother. She was an imposter.

I took no chances. I blasted her backward, stunning her. I sent a red flare up into the air, marking another case of dark magic.

There was a crash from the living room and I ran back into it, only to scream. My real mother and my father were suspended in the air, upside down. I had seen torture like this before, at the Quidditch World Cup in the summer before my fourth year. My mother, just like that Muggle-born woman at the Cup, was twitching and sobbing above me, upside down, mortified as her dress bubbled over her head, revealing her undergarments.

"Hermione, help me, please!" she screamed and it ripped me inside.

And then, they were dead. They crumpled to a heap in front of me, breaking their necks, and were no more.

"NO!" I shouted, my voice breaking as I lunged toward them. "No! Mum! Dad! No!"

I turned to kill the bastard that had done this to my parents, but he was racing up the stairs to my bedroom. I darted after him and threw the door open. Lucius Malfoy stood before me, tall and graceful just as he had been when I'd first met him in second year. His eyes were black and soulless and he smiled at me in the most unnerving manner. It gave me shivers.

"You are nothing but a filthy, pathetic excuse for a witch. You are a failure. You are weak. You have nothing now, no family, no friends. You are nothing. You are just a speck of dirt, you stupid, stupid Mudblood."

I began to cry, hating myself for being weak.

"You a-are an imposter," I sniffed and waved my wand.

Lucius became someone else. Someone I instantly knew. He was shorter than Lucius, as was his pale blond hair. His eyes were glassy gray and his teeth gleamed. Draco Malfoy. He held out a hand for me.

"Come, my love," he purred and I took a step toward him, entranced.

He led me to a closet, which he wrenched open. Inside were two boys, one with unruly curly chestnut hair and gray eyes, the other with pale blond hair and honey eyes. Jasper and Haden.

"Mummy, help us!" Haden cried.

I flew toward them, only then realizing the cause of their tears. The two little boys were surrounded by large, slithering black adders. They snapped their venomous fangs, wrapping their slim, black scaly bodies around the boys' legs and necks.

"M-M-Mummy, they're going to kill u-u-us! Help-p-p!" Haden sobbed.

I raised my wand and Draco grabbed me roughly by the neck.

"Do it and you die."

If I died, so would they.

"Mum, do something!" Jasper howled.

"Now, you are going to tell me where the headquarters to the Order is and all their intel, or I kill your first-born."

"Mummy!" cried Haden.

"Never," I ground out.

The test was to never give in and give him information.

"Very well," he said smoothly and shouted, "_Crucio!"_

This continued for many minutes until he finally stopped and asked me once again.

"I will tell you _nothing_," I spat. "Torture me all you want but you will never break me."

"We shall see," he laughed darkly.

"No, don't hurt them!" I shrieked as Draco pointed his wand at the angel-haired child. "_Incendio!_"

As my wand unleashed a stream of fire into the pit of snakes, lighting each of them on fire until they began to disintegrate. Elbowing Draco roughly in the nose, he stumbled back and I levitated both of my boys out of that horrible abyss and turned to finish the snakes.

"_Confringo!_" I shouted and the closet exploded, collapsing in on itself, its rubble crushing the remaining snakes.

"Mummy, you saved us!" Haden cried.

But it wasn't over. Draco Malfoy raised his wand, wiping the blood from his nose, his eyes flashing black.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he screeched and both of my little boys crumpled to the floor in frightened heaps, dead.

It was a jerk reaction, what I did next, almost as if someone else had invaded my body. Seeing them lying on the floor, dead, made something inside my chest break. It shattered like fragile glass, cutting up my insides until it seemed that I bled from every crevice. I fell to the ground and cradled their limp, cold bodies in my arms.

"_No!_ Oh, no. No, no, _no!_" I screamed.

I was done.

"How could you do this?"

There was no point to anything anymore.

I turned to Malfoy, who now had his wand pointed at me.

He had already killed me.

"How could you kill your own _sons_—?"

And then something snapped within me. It hit me, powerfully. I leapt to my feet with renewed energy, pointing my wand at his chest. He was starting to blur.

"You aren't Draco Malfoy," I ground out, taking a step forward so that my nose was near his face. "You are not Draco bloody _Malfoy!_"

And I blasted him into the wall. He crumbled until his real persona shown through. He was a faceless Death Eater once more.

And then, with the horrors still still standing before me, my world went black once more.


	10. Mysteries And Maladies

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter.

A/N: Wow, I can't believe we're already so close to the 200 review marker! Let's make that happen, okay? It's our new goal! Haha. Man, I am spoiling ya'll! Two updates in one evening. You should feel very very spoiled right now, haha. It only goes to show how much I love you! How are you all enjoying this story? I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update—life has been so crazy. I've been working non-stop and drama with family and friends has really struck, distracting me. Not to mention I stumbled across a couple weeks of horrible, painful, and horrendous writer's block—grr!—and preparing for school in the fall.

So, anyway, moving away from my hectic life, here is the new update! I hope you all will review and continue reading, my wonderful readers. Smiles and kisses to you all! Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Mysteries And Maladies

* * *

When I could finally see again, I was back in the circular room, lying flat on my back, staring up at the crystal chandelier. I had tears streaming down my cheeks and my chest was heaving, but I was no longer soaked in blood or covered in scratches like I had been in my test. For a moment, I was so shocked to be back in normal circumstances that I almost shot to my feet to go find Jasper and Haden. But then Ariana emerged from the glass office, biting her lip and gazing at me sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she apologized softly, helping me to my feet.

"What the _hell_ was that?" I snapped, seizing her robes.

"That was an illusionment charm that feeds off your worst fears to create the worst types of situations you could possibly imagine. It is the ultimate test to prove how you work under pressure, even when everyone you care about is dead. It's rough, but if you aren't strong enough to conquer that, then there will be no way you could stand in a war and defend others in time of need," she whispered, stroking my back comfortingly.

"So, you're telling me that that test or what have you, fed off of my fear of Antonin Dolohov and the Forbidden Forest, my fear of Hogwarts being destroyed and war and Harry dying, and snakes and my Mum and Dad dying? I don't see how that is necessary for becoming an Auror. That is private," I snarled, feeling invaded and helpless.

"Which is exactly why it is necessary. Dark wizards will feed off of your deepest and most private fears and desires, in order to destroy you and torture you," Ariana said. "It also tested your knowledge of discerning dark forces at work. You managed to find the first clue—unicorn's blood—and were able to discern that that Polyjuice Potion and Illusions were being used in the last scene. You were also able to keep your cool during the scene at Hogwarts, which is remarkable. And you were quick in action to safely destroy the threat of the snakes and get Haden and Jasper out of there without giving away valuable information, even when tortured. And finally, you were able to realize that the man before you was not Draco at all, but another imposter."

I gulped down air, trying to force the dark scenes out of my head. I never wanted to hear those little boys crying for me like that ever again. I never wanted to see them dead before me. And I never wanted to see Draco Malfoy with those horrible black eyes.

"I don't understand the last scene…" I whispered, gripping the throb in my head.

"My take on it is that one of your biggest fears now is that your boys will succumb to danger and that Draco will be corrupted by the Dark again," Ariana explained. "But in the end, you were able to realize it wasn't Draco standing before you. How did you figure that one out, may I ask?"

"The real Draco Malfoy—the one I knew in school and the one I know now—would never harm his own children. He would never kill. He's tried before, back when he was a Death Eater, but even then he wasn't able to. He's more than that. It doesn't take a genius to know that," I whispered.

"See, you may think you hate him, but even you know he's decent enough not to kill his own kids," Ariana said.

"I don't hate him."

I didn't know who was more shocked by my confession, me or Ariana, but if it was Ariana she recovered much more quickly than I did. She smirked.

"Of course you don't," she said. "Come on, I think you deserve a lunch break."

"It's already lunch?" I asked, flabbergasted. "Just how long was I in that charmed world anyhow?"

"About two hours, roughly," Ariana said.

"Two hours? It only felt like a few seconds," I gasped.

"The beauty of an illusionment charm," Ariana said, patting my back.

"Just how long did it take to train every single Auror in this building, if all the charms lasted that long?" I wondered as we made our way out of the circular room and into the corridor.

"It varies, depending on the person," she admitted, shrugging casually. "Some people are done within forty minutes, some can't even make it through the first ten minutes without having a panic attack. It's stone hard, real warriors that are able to make it through the entire charm without bailing out. People like you."

I had to stay, if I wasn't feeling completely nauseated and horrified at that moment, I would have been flattered. Soon, we reached the small café on the main level of the Ministry and ordered our lunches, talking casually about anything but Auror training. I'd had enough of that for one day.

"So, when's your appointment with the Healer?" asked Ariana.

"Twelve thirty," I answered grudgingly. "Harry is supposed to escort me to ensure I don't run out on the Healers."

"Is Draco coming?" Ariana asked innocently.

"I hope not," I muttered, taking a stab at my salad, but she didn't hear me.

"Well, we'd better get you back. It's almost twelve right now. Harry might be wondering where you are."

"Right," I conceded.

On our way toward the lift, we were suddenly stalled by a tall, lanky figure that came rushing toward Ariana out of nowhere.

"Ari, I've been looking all over for you," a familiar voice snapped. "Harry's been off his rocker searching for the pair of you. He's been worried that something happened to Hermione."

I stared at Ron like a fish out of water, taking in his sudden appearance in my new life. He was still much taller than me with a head of thick red hair. He was still painfully skinny, even after all these years, which I envied, but he was much more muscular than I remembered. And he still looked like my same old Ron, except he was different. His face was older, with the beginning lines of crow's feet by his eyes.

"Honey, please calm down, alright? Hermione's right here. I was just bringing her upstairs," Ariana responded calmly, lightly touching Ron's arm.

"Right, well I've got to get going," Ron replied, jerking away from her and sending me an uncertain look when I continued to frown foolishly at him. "I've got a massive amount of paperwork to sort through by the end of tonight. Speaking of which, I probably won't be home till late, so don't wait up for me."

"Again?" Ariana moaned, pouting in the most adorable manner.

"There's nothing I can do. The deadline is tomorrow and I'm not even halfway through it," Ron replied and he sounded less than apologetic.

Typical Ron, always waiting till the last moment to—Wait. What had Ariana just called him?

_Honey?_

And why was Ron telling Ariana he wouldn't be home till—Oh no. _Oh no._

"Okay, I'll save you some roast," Ariana sighed and then reached up to kiss Ron briefly on the lips.

I started, recoiling backward like I'd been hit with a sledgehammer.

"See you later. Feel better, Hermione," he said and then set off in the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry about him," Ariana sighed unhappily. "He _is_ worried about you, but work has been so hectic lately, I'm afraid that if I wasn't around to tell him which is which he wouldn't even be able to recognize his left foot from his right foot at the moment."

I wasn't preoccupied by the fact that Ron had nearly completely ignored my presence and hadn't said hello to me. Something else was on my mind. Something that involved Ariana calling Ron endearments and kissing him on the lips.

My eyes frantically darted down to her left hand. Sure enough, on her finger, was a simple gold band.

"Ariana," I said weakly. "What's your last name?"

"Weasley, of course, you silly girl," she laughed. "You knew that."

_Oh my God,_ I thought frantically. _Oh my God…She's married to Ron—She and Ron, who I am supposed to be—Oh good Godric…_

"I need to use the bathroom," I muttered weakly.

"Oh, of course, it's right—"

"I know where it is, thanks," I mumbled and set off toward the ladies room.

Once I entered the bathroom, I closed myself inside one of the stalls and began to hyperventilate. I couldn't believe this was happening. It seemed only a week or so ago_ I_ was kissing Ron, sealing our vows in front of _our_ families, joining _our_ lives together forever. And now, the man _I_ was supposed to marry, was married to some French woman I'd only met the day previous?

Involuntary tears sprang up in my eyes and I felt like I would lose it all there on the floor. But I didn't. A certain resolve seemed to wash over me as the door to the bathroom creaked open and Ariana called out to me.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

"Fine," I croaked, and with one final breath to calm myself and stay the tears, I emerged from the stalls.

"You don't look too well."

"It's not one of my finest days," I confessed hollowly.

"I could say the same for me," she sighed, resting her elbows on the basin of the sink.

"What's wrong?" I asked, even though the last thing I wanted was to hear about her problems.

I should be screaming at her, ripping her apart, crying hysterically. But I was oddly at peace with the whole idea, which completely threw me off. If Ron wasn't married to me, Ariana seemed _perfect_. And, as much as it pained me to admit it, she was probably better for him than me anyway.

"Ron and I just haven't been the same lately," she told me brokenly. "He's been drinking again and I just…I worry, you know?"

And did I know. I remembered how it was when Ron drank. I had the worst wedding night of my life because of his drinking problem. And now, eleven years in the future, in some different world where I was married to Draco Malfoy and not Ronald Weasley, Ron still had a drinking problem, and he was torturing his wife in the process by doing so.

"Absolutely," I said, prompting her to continue.

"He's been coming home later and later every night, working longer shifts, drinking far too much than I would like, and we hardly talk anymore. Do you know how long it's been since we've made love?"

"Oh, good gracious, please no," I groaned, covering my ears.

I could not listen to this. I didn't want to picture him touching another woman.

"Sorry, but it's true," Ariana sighed. "Except for little pecks on the lips or cheeks, he's hardly touched me at all. I think he might be having an affair."

An odd thought bombarded me and as soon as it did I felt guilty, but at the same time somewhat relieved.

_That could have been me. That could have been my life. A workaholic husband with a drinking problem._

"Oh please," I snorted. "Ron, have an affair? Not likely. He can hardly hold onto one woman, much less two. He's probably just stressed with work. It'll calm down in a few days and then we can have a chat with him. Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

"No…"

"Well, you should. Isn't that what marriage is about? Communication?" I said.

And that's what seemed to be the problem in mine and Ron's relationship. It was never good when we "communicated", because it would often turn into an argument, which would then turn into a fight, and then into a battle, and ending in war. Half the communicating we did was argue and make up. There was usually nothing in between anymore.

It seemed Ariana was a bit less temperamental than I, which was probably why she'd ended up with Ron and not me.

"You're right. I'll talk to him over the weekend," she sighed, giving my hand a squeeze. "Thanks, Hermione, you're such a great friend."

Yeah, I'm such a great friend because I kind of want to kick you in the face for marrying the man I used to call my boyfriend, fiancé, and husband.

But I had to be brutally honest with myself. In the long run, who would he be happier with? Me, whom he fought with on every occasion? Or Ariana, who is both brilliant and kind, and adores him more than I could ever give credit for?

I sighed, knowing it was true. Plus, I didn't know if I even felt jealously toward Ariana. It didn't feel like jealousy. It just felt like a shock and a blow to the stomach. Like I'd been hit by a truck or someone had died. Other than that, I was surprised at how well I was taking it. Was everything in my life crazy now?

_Bang!_

The door to the bathroom flew open and slammed against the wall. Ginny, her short red hair flying in all directions, sped toward a stall, and shut the door with a shudder. Seconds later, I heard her gagging and emptying the contents of her stomach. When she emerged from the stall, she looked as ghostly as she had that morning at my house.

"Gin!" Ariana and I cried in alarm, flying toward her. "What's wrong?"

"I think I need to go to St. Mungo's with you and Harry, Hermione," Ginny moaned, clutching her stomach. "Actually, on second thought—" she cut off to rush back into the stall "—tell Harry that I'll meet him there when I've gathered myself—_oof_—".

She began to vomit again.

"Um, okay, let's get you to Harry before he has a seizure," Ariana said.

"But Ginny," I protested.

"I'll be fine—just—bloody—_go!_ I'll meet you—there!"

We didn't need to be told twice.

Instead of heading down the corridor we had before, we turned left and walked into a large area, similar in appearance to the other room, which was covered in cubicles. Ariana marched me right up to the largest doors in the room and rapped on the door.

"Come in," replied a deep, resonating voice.

"Hermione's here," Ariana said, throwing open the door.

Harry, who had been sitting at his desk, scanning a very large file, sprung to his feet at my entrance.

"'Mione! Merlin, how are you? How'd your training go? Too rough?" Harry babbled, grabbing my arms.

"Harry!" I shouted, gripping his elbows to bring him back to Earth. "I'm fine, okay? Don't we have an appointment to keep or something?"

"Oh, Lord, you are absolutely right," Harry breathed, collecting himself.

He looked just as scatterbrained as Ron had moments ago. Ariana and I helped him organize his papers and file them away in his cabinets, to help him run along faster.

"Gracious, Harry, breathe," I commanded, rubbing his shoulder. "You're going to get high blood pressure if you keep this up."

"You're one to talk," he muttered agitatedly, but I could see his lopsided grin and knew he wasn't really irritated with me. "Come on, then. Let's get a move on or we'll be late."

"I'll see you later, Hermione," Ariana called, stopping to give me a friendly peck on both cheeks before disappearing into an office.

"Harry, how long will this take?" I asked him as we entered the lift.

"It depends, but I've given you the rest of the day off," Harry replied, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his robes.

Once we arrived at the main level, Harry pulled me along with hurried steps toward the many Floo fireplaces. I grabbed a handful of powder and was fully prepared to walk into the fireplace, but Harry took my hand and jerked me back. I sent him a quizzical glance and he checked his wristwatch, exhaling loudly before raking his fingers through his already disheveled mop of hair.

"Blast him," he growled, checking his watch again. I smiled at the watch, glad to see he still wore it. I'd given it to him for his birthday such a long time ago, yet he still kept it in great condition.

"Blast who? We're running late," I urged, tugging on his arm. "What are you waiting for?"

Just then, Draco Malfoy came speeding along the corridor. I'd never seen him in such a hurry—quite frankly I'd never seen him run to get anywhere. Time always waited for Malfoy, not the other way around. When he halted to a stop in front of us, he sent Harry an apologetic look.

"I'm horrible with time today," he grumbled in response to Harry's glare.

"I've noticed," Harry said sternly. "We're already late as it is. You were the one that insisted on coming, telling me you'll be waiting for us by the second fireplace at twelve, and it's twelve twenty now—"

"Potter, I know. I'm sorry, alright? I got held up. The French Ministry is giving me such grief lately about—"

"Oh, ruddy. Draco, just tell me when we get to St. Mungo's," Harry sniped, grabbing a fistful of Malfoy's robes and practically throwing him into the fireplace.

I gawked, unmoving, as Harry trudged in after him. There was no way I was going to a hospital with Draco Malfoy. Harry never mentioned this to me! He'd completely left this out! This was not part of our deal.

"Hermione, get in!" Harry barked and when I made no movement and fixed him with an icy glare, he yanked my arm and pulled me in after him.

I crashed into Draco's chest, again.

"St. Mungo's!" Harry declared and whacked the top of my hand, causing all the powder I'd been holding to spray onto the ground, issuing bright green flames.

Within moments we were at St. Mungo's. Harry, Malfoy, and I all stepped out of the porcelain white marble fireplace, brushing ourselves off as we did so. We were in the waiting room of St. Mungo's.

"Wait over there with Hermione," Harry instructed to Draco who merely nodded and directed me over to a spare chair.

"Aren't you and Harry on good terms?" I inquired, staring at Draco with suspicious eyes.

He seemed taken aback that I was talking to him on my own accord, just as I had this morning. I had tried to restrain myself from bringing up a conversation with him once more, but I my curiosity had gotten the best of me, as it almost always did.

"Good terms?"

"Yes. You seemed somewhat friendly toward each other when he and Ginny had dinner at our place the other night," I reminded him and he nodded, as if only now registering what I was saying.

"Yeah, he and I are alright these days. Actually, he's pretty neat," Draco confessed, clearing his throat.

I never thought I'd hear him utter such words.

"So, you're friends?" I pressed.

"Harry Potter and I have an odd relationship, but yes, I guess you could say we are 'friends'," Draco answered, rolling his eyes.

"How?" I wondered, mostly asking myself.

"I started fancying you and decided it'd be best if at least tried to be civilized to those you cared about, considering they were a part of your life and I wanted to be in that life as well. It took quite some time, but eventually, Harry and I started working together more and more every day and then you and I got engaged. Weasley still can't stand me, of course, but Harry was always the more reasonable one of the two."

"I agree," I chuckled. "So, if you two are on a first name basis these days and are such good pals, how come you called him by his surname at the Ministry?"

"We tend to slip back into our old habits when we get frustrated or stressed or angry and are in the same proximity. After all, I did despise the man my entire childhood and teenage years. It's very difficult to just turn around and become best friends in one day," Draco reminded me. "But yeah, I suppose he and I are alright. I'd trust him with my life."

"He seems to feel the same way," I told him.

Thankfully, at that moment, Harry popped back into the picture.

"We have to wait until they can clear a room for Hermione," Harry announced, disgruntled.

"Patience is a virtue," Draco sing-songed innocently, his gray eyes rolling up to stare at the vaulted ceiling.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry grumbled.

Minutes later, a matronly looking woman with salt and pepper hair emerged from the door.

"Hermione Malfoy?" she called, scoping the room.

Harry and Draco practically jumped to their feet and I stood up slowly, following after them. The Healer stopped the men with a flick of her clipboard.

"You are Draco Malfoy?" she questioned Draco, who nodded. "And what is your relation to the patient?"

"I'm her husband," he answered tightly. "Is there a problem?"

"Absolutely not, it's just standard procedure. And who might you be?" the Healer asked Harry.

"I'm Harry Potter," he responded.

"What is your relation to the patient?"

"I'm her friend. I made her the appointment," Harry said.

"I see," the Healer said lightly, frowning as she flipped through the sheets of paper on her clipboard. "Well, I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that I cannot allow you past this point."

"What?" Harry and I said in unison, his tone one of outrage and mine one of panic.

"Only family is allowed back with the patient at the moment," the elderly Healer continued. "I apologize, but that's protocol."

"Oh, fine," Harry mumbled, stepping back.

"Harry, no—" I started, but Harry gently patted my shoulder.

"You'll be fine. I'll be waiting out—"

Just then, the fireplace chimed and a red haired woman, ghastly pale, stumbled into the waiting facility.

"Ginny! What are you doing here?" Harry gasped, running over to his frail wife and clasping her hands.

"I need to see a Healer," she replied dryly, sinking down in a chair. "Hop to it, Harry, please. I've been emptying my stomach all morning and I can't get over this nausea, no matter how many Pepper-Up potions I down."

As Harry scuttled hurriedly back to the receptionist, I had no other choice than to follow Draco and the Healer through the back door and into my holding room. I sat on top of the bed as Draco took the chair nearest the window and stared out.

"My name is Healer Karen and I'll be taking care of you today," the woman explained brightly, then gazed down at her clipboard. "So, I hear you've been having some memory difficulties, is that correct?"

"She's forgotten eleven years of her life," Draco grunted. "I hardly think that's_ some_ memory difficulties."

"Behave yourself," I snapped and turned to the woman in front of me. "Yes, apparently, I've forgotten eleven years of my life. I can't recall ever marrying him—we were enemies at school, you see, so it's very hard for me to wrap my head around it—or having children with him, or anything."

"What is your last memory?" the Healer prompted, scratching her quill against the clipboard.

"I was actually getting married to my fiancé at the time, Ron Weasley. And he'd passed out drunk so I went to bed, more than a bit distraught," I revealed, twiddling my thumbs. "The next thing I know, I'm waking up next to _him_, eleven years in the future."

"Strange, very strange," Healer Karen muttered. "I've never heard of such a thing happening like this before. Was there any trace of Muggle amnesia in the family? It states that you were born from two Muggles."

"There are no traces of any disorder or illness in my family except for my grandmother's diabetes," I said.

"And how about any memory charms? Were you dealing with the 'Obliviate' spell at any time during the day or do you remember anyone using that charm, possibly?"

"No, of course not," I answered.

"Alright. Well, we're going to do some tests," she said calmly, letting go of her clipboard so that it and the quill floated in mid-air next to her. "Just to see what we should work with."

"What kind of tests?" I asked, my voice taking on a hysterical hitch.

"Oh, nothing to be worried about, my dear. We'll just check your vitals, do some blood tests, have you drink a few potions for medical procedure, and try to look into what's up in that head of yours."

"Just how are you going to do that? Crack her skull open?" Draco asked, his expression tight. I blanched.

"Not at all, dear," the Healer laughed. "You needn't worry. We'll take great care of your wife."

And with that, the Healer disappeared through the doorway, leaving him and I alone together.

"You'll be alright," Draco said after a moment.

I scoffed.

"How do you know?" I wondered.

"Because this is St. Mungo's. They never make mistakes," Draco reasoned.

I didn't know whether he was trying to convince me or himself. I stared hard at pea green wall, trying to place my mind on something other than the fact that I was going to be poked, prodded, and jabbed in a few minutes. I hated hospitals—I really, really did.

"Tell me something," I whispered hoarsely to Draco.

"Pardon?"

His voice sounded strained and stressed, much like mine. It seemed I wasn't the only one that was anxious about my being prodded.

"Just talk to me. Keep my mind off of what's going to happen to me in a few minutes," I demanded.

"What would you like me to talk about?" he asked, scooting his chair closer to my bed.

"I don't care. You decide. Anything." I sucked in a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. "What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?" he laughed and then sat back in his seat, placing his hands behind his head. "I'm rather fond of green, to be honest. And black. Black goes with everything."

"You are such a Slytherin," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Don't be absurd. I don't like the color green because I wore it every day while at _school_," he told me, narrowing his eyes. "You wore red and gold every day, but that doesn't mean your favorite color is one of those two."

"True," I gave in. "Mine isn't red or gold at all, actually. It's purple."

"I know," he said, smiling faintly.

"Favorite food?" I inquired.

"Hm, that's horribly hard to narrow down," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "I would have to say that I adore your herb chicken and homemade pizzas. I know the boys are particularly fond of the pizza, too."

I nearly dropped my jaw on the floor. I cooked Draco Malfoy the family's famous herb chicken recipe? Well, great Merlin! My mother had taught me that recipe when I was ten, before I went off to Hogwarts, and insisted that I make it every time I come home for the holidays so that it would stick to my mind. It was my father's favorite dish and a specialty in the Holden—my mother's maiden name— cookbook, which had been passed down for generations on my mother's side.

I cleared my throat to hide my shock and calmed myself. Of course I cooked him my famous chicken. Every descendent of Janine Holden—my great grandmother—cooked that chicken for their husbands. Ron never had enjoyed my chicken—he preferred shepherd's pie, which I despised—and would always get upset whenever I would make chicken for dinner while we were together.

"How do you like your tea?"

"My tea?" Draco said, smiling at me. "Oh, that's a unique one."

I waited, trying not to focus on his intense stare and his happy smile. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined Draco Malfoy and I having a pleasant conversation.

"Well?"

"Without sugar and with a splash of lemon, depending on the type of tea," he answered.

"Favorite subject in school?" I fired off.

"Potions," he replied calmly.

"Favorite pastime?"

"Reading and Quidditch, of course," he answered, smirking. "But I'm only allowed to get away with Quidditch when you aren't around."

"Smart decision," I snickered, grateful that my opinion on the dangerous sport hadn't altered.

"Although, you do like to join me and the boys for the World Cup every year. We have our own private box."

"Of course we do," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Just then, the door opened and Karen walked inside, followed closely by two wizards. She gestured to the taller man, informing me that his name was Healer Quincey. He was broad shouldered and had a bristly sand colored mustache and playful ocean eyes. The next man Karen introduced me to was a stout man with round glasses and a balding head, several feet shorter than Quincey. He was introduced as Healer Jack. And of course they were here to inspect my head.

After Karen took my blood pressure and temperature, she quickly began to withdraw some blood from me and I turned to look away. I met Draco's eyes and he gave me an encouraging smile, like he'd done this many times and was used to my unreasonable fear of hospitals and doctors and healers.

"Well, everything appears normal. There are no abnormalities in your bloodstream. Your blood pressure is a little high, but it's nothing to be concerned about, just try and lay off the stress for a few days," Karen said. "Now, we're going to look at your head for a moment, alright, dear? It's just to see what we can figure out. Lie back, please."

I had no idea what they were going to do and I was so frightened with fear, I could feel all my muscles going taunt. Almost immediately, as if sensing the change in me, Draco was standing beside me, his hand entwined with mine, brushing the hair from my face with his long, pale fingers. A shock instantly rocketed my body at his touch and I shivered, reacting to him again.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, peering up into his stormy gray eyes. From this close I could see little flecks of blue swarming around in the hurricane of silver gray.

"Just trust me. This helps," he breathed, running his fingers through my hair. "Close your eyes, Hermione."

Gulping, I did as he said and fastened my eyes shut. I could feel his touch, spreading warmth over my suddenly frigid skin.

"You're suddenly very warm," Karen announced, feeling my forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," I lied quickly, keeping my eyes closed. "It's just a tad stuffy in here."

When I felt three wands at my temples, I flinched, squeezing his hand harder. I could feel them invading my thoughts, invading my feelings, trying to steal my memories.

"Stop fighting, Mrs. Malfoy, we're just trying to collect your memories into a pensive," Karen muttered in my ear.

"It's okay, 'Mione," Draco whispered.

The strange thing was I believed him. I let go and stopped fighting against the invasion. If I wanted to get an explanation for why I was here, I had to give in. Taking deep breaths, I clutched his hand and relaxed my muscles, quelling my fears.

I think I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was waking with a jerk, shooting bolt upright in the hospital bed. The sun outside the window was just barely drooping downward. I glanced at the old fashioned clock on the left wall, noting that it was seven thirty. I swallowed in amazement. Apparently getting your head fooled around with sapped your energy.

Draco was in the chair by my bedside, hunched over so that his head rested on the sheets of the hospital bed. His hand was still gripping mine. I watched him sleep, but he hardly looked at all at peace. He looked worried, as if he was dreaming something perplexing. I felt weak and drained, like I'd been sucked dry. I couldn't believe how long Draco and I had been here. Harry must have been frantic by now.

"Malfoy," I croaked, my voice thick with sleep and fatigue. I shook his arm lightly. "Draco, wake up."

He moaned faintly, burying his head into the sheets, trying to force my forceful hand away. Eventually, I got him to wake up and he yawned hugely as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and frowning at me.

"Finally," I huffed. "You sleep like the dead."

"And a happy good morning to you too, Miss Cheerful," he muttered sarcastically.

"Technically it's evening," I pointed out, gesturing to the setting sun.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, glancing at his watch.

"Shouldn't we know something by now?" I worried, wondering why no one bothered to come in. "Draco, I really want to leave."

My voice sounded so small and panicked. He just squeezed my hand.

"We will in a bit. I'm going to go check with the healers and see if they've come up with anything yet," he stated and rose fluidly from his stiff chair, throwing open the door with a determined motion, and disappearing from my sight.

Minutes later, Healer Karen came through the door with Malfoy at her heels, looking anxious.

"Well, we've replaced all your memories after inspecting them in the pensive. We can't seem to figure out anything that would make a monumental difference. It's just as you said—you have no memory of the last eleven years. Normally, in cases such as these, the memories will still be there, but you'll have no ways to trigger those memories back. Frankly, it's very perplexing. We've no way of figuring out anything. It's definitely a mystery, but there's nothing more we can do. You're in perfect health," Karen explained.

How was that even possible? I was in perfect health? There was nothing more they could do? They were Healers, for heaven's sake! I was able to keep my anger in check, but it seemed my husband was having more difficulty containing his.

"What?" he grinded out. "You expect me to sit here and believe that you have found nothing wrong with my wife? She can't remember the last eleven years of her life and you claim there is nothing wrong? I'll tell you something, Healer Karen, this is pathetic."

"Mr. Malfoy, I understand how angry and disappointed you are—believe me, I am too—but there's nothing we can do for her at present. I'd like her to come back in a few weeks, possibly stay a couple nights at the infirmary, so we can run some more tests—"

"No," Draco spat, leering down at the elderly woman with contempt. "No. She and I are done with your pitiful excuses and your tests. My wife is not a lab rat. You've kept us here all afternoon for this? No, ma'am. She is coming home with me tonight and we will not be coming back any time soon. Now, if you suddenly wake up one day with your brains screwed on straight, you can contact me then. Until then, my wife is finished here. Thank you for your time and good evening."

I stared at him in complete shock. Here he was, the man who had bullied me and poked fun at me since we were children, standing here, defending me. He seemed to speak the words exactly on my mind, seemed to reflect my anger and frustration. He was seething, spitting mad, and sleep deprived—and he'd never looked so attractive.

I swallowed painfully as he grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly from the sheets of the small bed. He set me down on the ground, still clutching my waist, and hauled me right out of that small, enclosed room.

"So, there's nothing wrong with me," I whispered softly.

"We don't know that yet," Draco said stiffly. "But I certainly hope so…"

When we entered the waiting room, Ginny and Harry were seated by the fireplace, casually talking with brilliant smiles on their faces. Ginny had a copy of Witch's Weekly opened across her lap and she was stroking Harry's cheek affectionately.

"Oi! Look who it is!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet and crossing over to me. "How'd it go? I was getting so worried. We've been out here for almost two hours waiting for news."

Malfoy explained the situation to Harry in a heated murmur and Harry's eyebrows furrowed.

"How is it possible that she's completely healthy? She can't remember anything," Harry whispered fiercely. Draco attempted to say something back, but bit his lip and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter right now. The important thing is that we're getting the hell out of here now and going home to catch some much needed rest," Draco said.

"Well, on happier notes—you do want to hear some happy news, right, Draco?" Ginny interrupted, winking at Malfoy surreptitiously.

"I'd love to hear some happy news—by the way, you're looking loads better than before," Malfoy said.

"I'm pregnant!" Ginny announced and I gasped, my jaw dropping.

Malfoy let out a loud bark of a laugh, throwing his head back.

"Again? I knew it," he laughed. "I knew he'd knock you up again before Christmas rolled around. Not very careful, are we?"

Draco slapped Harry on the shoulder, both of them laughing deeply. Ginny blushed furiously and whacked Draco over the head with her magazine, casting him a glare, although she couldn't keep the grin off her face. I flew into her arms and squeezed her tightly.

"Oh, Gin! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you," I gushed, happy to put my woes aside for this wonderful news.

"I didn't think that I was pregnant, because I've never had any nausea that extreme before. Actually, I've been pretty lucky with my last two pregnancies with not being all that nauseated. But I guess I have to make up for all of that in this one," she said, grimacing.

"A small price for a great gift," I told her, hugging her again and then turning to hug Harry. "Congratulations."

A few minutes later, we were saying our goodbyes to the happy couple for the night and stepping into the fireplace to Floo back home.

"Mum! Dad!" Jasper exclaimed once Draco and I stepped into our living room.

"Hey, buddy," Draco chuckled, patting his head. "How was your day?"

"Nothing special," he admitted. "How was yours? Did you get to talk to that funny Frenchman again? The one with the weird nose?"

"Jasper," I gasped, then broke into laughter.

"He's absolutely right, 'Mione," Draco said. "Monsieur Gerard has an abnormally large nose. And a very large ego to go with it."

"Haden's waiting upstairs for his story, Dad," Jasper told him.

"I'll be up in a minute, bud," Draco said. "Kiss your mum goodnight and go change into your pajamas, okay?"

"Okay," he sighed and stood on his tip toes to kiss me on the cheek. "Love you, Mum."

"Love you too, Jazzy," I smiled.

When Jasper had disappeared up the stairs, Draco turned to me and suddenly the room's temperature increased fifteen degrees by the look on his face. He stepped toward me so suddenly that I was paralyzed in frozen shock at his proximity. He smelled of spearmint and sweat—the scent made my stomach quiver and I bit down hard on my lip to bring myself to sanity again. Except he was still standing too close, fogging up my senses and my thoughts. I was having trouble breathing.

His face inched closer to mine until he was only a whisper away, his stormy eyes focused on my swollen bottom lip.

_Ka-thump, ka-thump, ba-bump-ba-bump, thump-thump-thu-thu-thump._

And then he moved his fingers along my cheek, grazing his thumb along my skin. For a moment, he seemed to draw in closer to me, like a magnet, but then at the very last second, he pulled back. His fingers tucked a stray curl behind my ear, and he breathed deeply, almost disappointedly? No, that couldn't be it.

"I'm glad you are okay, Hermione," he breathed. "Goodnight."

He was almost to the stairs when I finally found my voice and managed to croak out, "N-Night."

I followed Draco's lead up the stairs a few minutes later, still mulling over what had just occurred between us. I quickly changed into some cotton pajama pants and a white t-shirt, curling up into the fluffy bed I had woken up in almost a week ago, pressed up against Draco Malfoy's body. I swallowed again, blinking rapidly and pushing his face out of my mind. It took me nearly an hour to finally fall asleep, but when I did, I did not feel the release of a good night sleep looming above me. Instead, I felt an unreasonable loneliness so powerful that is brought tears to my eyes. And it remained that way until I woke up in the morning, clutching myself and the covers fiercely, as if they were the only things I could depend on.


	11. A Personal Problem

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.

A/N: Oh my! You guys blow me away every time! Thank you so much all my readers, favoritists, alertists, and especially my lovely reviewers! I can't even begin to describe how happy you all make me! I know that a lot of you have expressed your frustrations with Hermione and her stubborn, infernal pride toward our dear wonderful Draco. But I'd like to point out that Hermione is warming up to Draco—can you not tell? She's talking to him, even going far enough to laugh with him at some points. I won't give much away, but things are going to be taking a very interesting, crazy turn in a few chapters. *evil laugh*.

But you'll just have to wait—I know, I'm too cruel. Bear with me, my lovelies. And enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

A Personal Problem

* * *

The afternoon smelled of rain, the skies a foreshadowing of gray and navy grumbles. Overhead the belly of the sky stretched out to all horizons, leaving no hope of sunshine. It was one of those dark summer thunderstorms, powerful and endless, threatening to swallow one up whole and sink them in some unforgiving abyss.

"You're looking awfully doleful this afternoon," Pam said to me when I wrench open the backdoor and tore out into the backyard.

I had had the worst night of sleep, tossing and turning and staring up at the ceiling, left alone to my overcomplicated thoughts. After taking a stroll about the darkened house around five in the morning, I had returned to my bedroom in hopes of catching even a wink of sleep. Thankfully, I'd been rewarded and ended up sleeping through most of the day, waking up around twelve thirty in the afternoon.

I'd come downstairs, only the find the entire manor empty. Panic instantly rose within me as I relived the nightmares that had plagued my fitful slumber. I could still see the horrified, blood streaked faces of my parents, hanging above me as they screamed for me to save them. Pressed against my quivering eyelids were the haunting images of a cold, black forest, me running through the expanse of darkness, all alone, screaming for someone—anyone—to find me. And when I found them, I was terrified. I saw myself, in the same pajamas I had gone to bed in, hunched over something, sobbing relentlessly, my kneecaps sinking into the mucky, muddy earth. When I had taken a step closer to see what my dream persona was grieving over, I saw two hands clasped tightly together, pale and limp—lifeless. Those little hands belonged to Jasper and Haden, my little boys, my beautiful sons. And they were dead.

I remembered trying to scream, but nothing could be heard except my dream self's cries. But that wasn't all that wrenched my heart out and left me there to bleed. No, there was more. Grasping the boys tightly, in one final stance of protection, Draco Malfoy clutched his two little boys to his chest, tears still fresh on his face, his gray eyes as silver as the moon above as they stared lifelessly up at the darkened sky.

And then a figure had stepped out of the shadows, a figure wearing a black cloak. I could not see his face and his voice was barely a whisper.

"You are alone now," was all he said to me. "There is no one left to love you. They're all gone."

And then I had woken up in a dead sweat, shivering as the thunder rolled outside my balcony. When I had come downstairs and found myself alone in the house, my dream had come back to swat me in the face. I called out for my boys, for Malfoy, for Pamela. But no one replied. My panic had reached an almost heart bursting worthy height, when suddenly, I heard the sound of Haden's laughter, followed quickly by Jasper screaming, "Haystack!", and Pamela reproving them for trotting over the flowers.

"Hermione?" Pamela said, her tone more worried now than amused. "Are you okay?"

I wanted to respond and tell her I was fine, but I couldn't bring the lie past my lips. Instead I nodded mutely, hoping she'd drop it. Of course, she didn't.

"You don't look okay," she continued, standing up from her kneeling position over my smashed daisies.

"I—um—bad dream," I managed as Pam wrapped an arm around my shoulder and lightly shook me out of whatever funk I had been trapped in since late last night.

"I'm sorry about that," Pam sympathized, patting my shoulder. "Oh, by the way, your mama called."

Time froze and the muscles in my abdomen clenched so tightly, I thought my stomach was being taken hostage by a python.

"My—My mother?" I croak.

I could not believe that in all my time here, I had not once raised a concern about the state of my parents. Sure, I had seen their pictures on the mantel opposite Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's pictures, and yes, I had had several dreams involving my mother—so why had I not expressed a desire to see my parents before now? Certainly I knew they existed in this life, didn't I?

"She wanted you to stop by her place sometime today. She'd heard about your—uh—predicament, and wanted to see you," Pam explained. "She's worried about you."

"I—well, of course," I stammered, excitement flushing my cheeks rouge. "Do you happen to know her address?"

"Absolutely," Pam said and after conjuring a note pad and a pen, began to scribble down my mother's address. She handed it to me with a smile. "She doesn't live that far off, just a couple streets down, by the pier."

"Really? She lives here? In this neighborhood?"

"Oh, you bet. You were the one who proposed the move up here in the first place," Pam informed me.

"That doesn't make any sense. My mum loved our old house. She and Dad would never move," I protested, crinkling my brow. "Why would they move up here at my suggestion?"

Pamela suddenly became tense, her face contorting in a strangled expression, as if she desperately wanted to say something to me, but couldn't.

"I—um—perhaps you should ask your mama that?" suggested Pamela in her thick accent, returning to re-potting my daisies.

"Pamela, why are you avoiding—?"

Just then, a loud crashing noise thundered through the backyard and I yelped. Pamela buckled backward into the freshly re-fitted daisies, covering her white blouse in dirt. I helped her to her feet and the both of us set off in the direction of the crash.

"I told you not to go over there! Mummy says that only Pammy is allowed back there!"

"Shut up, Haystack," Jasper replied in a growl, clutching his ankle. "If it hadn't been for you insisting we play tag, we never would have gotten into this!"

"You're a big meanie!" Haden huffed, aiming a kick at his brother's already swelling foot. Jasper howled.

"Why you little—"

"Hey!" I shouted, coming over to the two squabbling boys and pulling the small Haden off of Jasper before he got pummeled to death. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Jasper knocked over Pammy's door," Haden accused, pouting.

I followed Haden's gesture to the small red bricked building with two windows. It was fairly small, like a miniature version of the manor.

"What's that building, there?" I asked, pointing.

"Oh, that's my place," Pamela answered with a smile. "Cozy, huh?"

"Your place?"

"Yeah, of course," Pam continued, smiling fondly at the small living quarters. "It was originally a storage facility, but Draco fixed it up for me so that I could live here. I love it. He even built me a small fireplace inside it—see that chimney, just there?—so that I could stay warm durin' the winter."

"You mean, you don't live inside? With us?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"Are you kiddin' me? Heavens, no," she laughed, looking at me like I was the silliest thing in the world. "I'd lived with you the first month, but when I turned eighteen the followin' month, it just felt awkward. You and Draco were married with your own children—I was just stayin' for the help. So, Draco fixed me up a guest house and I've been stayin' here ever since."

Instead of continuing our conversation, Pam turned to Jasper and knelt down in front of him.

"Alright, what happened?"

"Jasper—" Haden started, but I covered his mouth with my hand.

"Jazz?"

"Haden and I were playing tag—sorry about your flowers, Mum—and Haden and I began to horse around and he shoved me and I tripped over that rock over there, twisted my ankle, and hit the door," Jasper bit out.

"Ah, it seems you've sprained your ankle," Pam observed, tenderly touching his swollen ankle.

"I'm—I'm sorry about your door," Jasper hissed, sucking in a deep breath. "I didn't mean to open your house."

Pamela laughed loudly, patting his head.

"Babycakes, the door was unlocked and left open; it was my own doin', not yours," she assured him. "So, don't you worry. Come on; let's go get that ankle fixed up."

Pam helped Jasper hobble to the garden and slid open the back door. She turned to me before she entered, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Jasper's friend Sam is coming over for the day, I forgot to tell you," Pam told me and I nodded.

"Absolutely," I said. "Is the other boy—Dallin, was it?—coming as well?" I asked and Pam shook her head. "Well, in that case, I'll just take Haden to see my mum with me."

"We're going to see Nana?" Haden exclaimed, and he jumped up and down excitedly at my nod. "Yay!"

"Go wash up and I'll meet you by the door, okay?" I said and Haden nodded enthusiastically and tore off into the house to wash his hands.

"Mum?" Jasper called from the kitchen.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I answered, poking my head into the tiled kitchen.

Jasper was sitting on top of the counter as Pamela dug through the icebox for some ice.

"If Nana makes some cookies, can you bring me back one?" he asked, a pained smile tugging on his pale lips.

"Of course I can," I told him, giving him a quick kiss before meeting Haden by the front door.

"Mummy, it's raining," Haden observed.

I sighed and took off the small jacket from the coat rack by the door, helping Haden into it and pulling the hood over his head. I did the same for me, shrugging into a pale blue windbreaker. Taking Haden's hand, I opened the door and led us into the rainy day.

* * *

"266 Porterleigh Lane," I said, scratching my neck as I looked around the modest garden and back up at the pink bricked one story house. "Well, this is it, isn't it?"

Haden nodded. "It is, Mummy, it is! Why isn't Nana coming to the door?"

"Perhaps she isn't home," I suggested. "No, that doesn't make since—she asked me to come over sometime today. Try knocking again, Haden."

But before Haden could rap his fist against the white painted door again, it swung open. I was instantly greeted with the familiar smell of honeysuckle and apple air freshener.

"Nana!" cried Haden, lunging into the arms of the woman in front of me.

She definitely looked like my mother, except older and thinner. Her hair had been dark brown and curly with a fringe of stylish bangs when I had last seen her, but now it was lighter, tinted with the slightest of gray. She had always been a slender woman, my mother, but I had never seen her this thin. She seemed frailer than usual, smaller. But her smile remained with the same radiance as I remembered, warming my very core. Her pouty pink lips were seashell pink as they stretched wide to reveal her glistening teeth.

"Oh, good," she said and I nearly cried at the sound of her voice. "I was beginning to wonder if Pamela had given you my message."

"Mum," I breathed, practically slamming into her and knocking her sideways as I embraced her. "Oh, Mum, I've missed you. I love you, Mum."

"Good gracious," she laughed, but patted me on the head all the same, as she used to do when I was a girl. "It's wonderful to know that you haven't forgotten me."

"Mum, I could never forget you, don't be ridiculous," I said into her black and white polka dot dress.

"How silly of me," she laughed and steered me into the house with Haden following behind. "How are you today, young man?"

"Great! Jasper can't come, Nana. He broke his ankle," Haden said.

"Oh dear," gasped my mother.

"No, no," I corrected hurriedly. "Jasper only sprained it. He should be fine in a few days with some ice and a few numbing spells."

"The glories of magic," my mother said, shaking her head pleasantly. "Come, sit on the sofa. I've just started my show. You've heard of it, haven't you? _Doctor Who?_ It's fantastic."

"I never considered you one to enjoy science fiction, Mum," I chuckled, taking a seat next to her.

"Yes, well, I've become rather attached to it as of late," she explained, patting my hand. "Turn up the volume there, will you, dear?"

I did and settled back onto the sofa.

"Nana, you make any cookies?" Haden asked, wide-eyed and innocent.

"Of course I did," my mother replied with a smile. "They're in the kitchen. Help yourself. But you have to eat some of the celery sticks and carrots I put out for you, too, agreed?"

"Fine," he sighed, slumping into the kitchen.

"And save a cookie for your brother!" I called after him.

"That boy has such a sugar tooth," my mother said, shaking her head in dismay. "He gets it from Draco."

I startled at the sound of Draco's name coming out of my mother's lips in such a loving fashion.

"Are you—Do you like Draco?" I inquired, keeping my eyes on the TV screen.

"Are you mad? I adore the fellow. You should have married him sooner!" she exclaimed. "Granted, it definitely took me by surprise when you first started dating the lad since all I'd ever heard about him from you was that he called you that awful name and made fun of you in school. Your father and I had deemed him out to be the bully of Hogwarts."

"He was," I insisted.

"Was," she reminded me, tracing my cheek fondly with her hand. "The war changed everyone, sweetheart, even you—I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

"No, you don't," I sighed, trying to force out those dark days.

"The point is," she continued, "Draco changed as well. When you two met in Paris, you fell in love despite years and years of hatred and mocking. You became adults and worked past your differences. Mind you, we were rather shocked to hear that you were dating someone when you got back. We were even more shocked when you brought him over for dinner immediately after your return trip. Your father was a bit furious with him, of course, kept trying to threaten the truth out of him. He had some sick idea that Draco was trying to take advantage of you. He hadn't believed Draco had changed."

I shook my head, imagining my father with his sandy hair and brown eyes sizing up Draco Malfoy with a shot gun in his hands, his signature 'boys don't enter my house to date my daughter without my willful permission' glare plastered to his face.

"And then you stepped in front of Draco, glared right back at your father, and said, 'Daddy, stop bullying my boyfriend and step aside. I would like to tell you about my trip.' He was so surprised by you that he did as you said and allowed Draco to pass through unscathed. Draco was marvelous. He was polite, courteous, and we had the most amazing conversations. Your father had a difficult time—you know how he was with anyone who offended his baby girl—but eventually he found a lot in common with Draco. He even taught him how to fish."

"Dad taught Draco how to fish?" I gasped, aghast.

I tried to picture Draco Malfoy standing with my father, holding a fishing rod. I nearly laughed out loud at the image.

"That he did. And it was on one of your father's annual fishing trips that Draco tagged along to that Draco asked your dad for your hand in marriage. Your dad told him that if he caught the biggest fish in the lake before he did, he could marry you. And well—"

My mother gave a chiming laugh, stood, and sauntered over to the fireplace where she plucked off a picture from the mantel and handed it to me, shaking her head with a fond smile. The picture was of Draco Malfoy and my father, holding a massive fish that had to be held by both of them. They were smiling widely—my dad more out of intense excitement because he was holding the biggest fish of his life and Draco because of…something else that I wasn't sure of.

"How'd he manage that?" I asked.

"Oh, come now, Hermione," my mother clucked teasingly, sitting beside me again. "Your father told me plenty times how horrid a fisherman Draco was. How then, so suddenly, was Draco able to get a fish of that size immediately after making that bet with your father? Curious, isn't it?"

I flushed, knowing exactly what she meant. It was obvious he had used magic to conjure the fish when my father wasn't looking so that he could win and properly earn my hand in marriage. For some reason, the thought of him doing something so ridiculous made me want to laugh hysterically and hide my blushing face under the couch cushions at the same time.

"Not really," I laughed, shaking my head. "Did Dad ever find out?"

"Of course he did," my mother said. "And he told Draco that he would have done the exact same thing. Except, he'd find a way to fool the father without magic, since he wasn't magical."

"So, wait, Dad actually gave him permission to marry me?"

"Of course he did. The boy was madly in love with his daughter and would give her a good marriage and take care of her. And his daughter was crazy about him," my mother informed me with a good natured wink.

"But Dad always gave me such a hard time about Ron," I argued, crossing my arms.

I didn't understand how my father could argue and fight with me about marrying Ron, constantly pestering me about 'right choices' and 'a real partner' when it was evident he was the one I wanted to marry, and then turn around and offer me up to marry Draco Malfoy?

"Your father had a difficult time believing that Ron would treat you right, honey," my mother sighed.

"Ron was a good man, Mum. He loved me and I loved him. We would have been happy together," I insisted, but even as I said it my stomach began to feel queasy.

"True, you might have been happy with Ronald. But, like your father, I believe that if you had married Ron, you wouldn't be content. You would be happy with Ron, but you are happier with Draco," she whispered and suddenly the queasiness in my stomach evaporated.

"So, where _is_ Dad?" I asked, smiling at the mention of my father. "All this talk has me wanting to see him. Where's he gotten to?"

My mother's face paled and she went stark, freezing up like marble. I reached out to her and gripped her hand and it was ice cold.

"Mum, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Your father…" she whispered hoarsely.

"Is he okay? He's not sick is he?" I asked, suddenly worried by her reaction. "Is he home? Mum? Is he home? Is he at work? Tell me. Talk to me! Where's Dad?"

"Honey, your dad…" she whispered and suddenly tears sprung to her eyes and she gripped my hand tighter. "Your father—Honey, Daddy is dead…"

I felt as if I had been struck with a dozen Crucio's in a row, one right after the other, leaving me no room to breathe, no room to recuperate. Her words snipped into my veins like needle pricks, the meaning of the words wrapping around my throat like Devil's Snare, choking me until I could no longer breathe. My world had just begun to feel stable and safe; now, I could feel the earth trembling beneath my feet, about to crack open and force me down into the fiery depths of horror. I was threatening to break, to lose it all.

"Wh-What do you mean he's d_-dead_?" I spluttered, sounding like I was strangling myself.

My mother moved toward me with a deep frown, pain evident in her glistening eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek. She reached for me, but I staggered back.

"Tell me!" I demanded.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew it would cause you fresh pain, but you needed to know. Oh, honey."

She moved to me again and I so desperately wished to crawl into her secure arms where I know I could be safe, to forget the words she had just uttered. But I couldn't.

"We have no idea when your memory will be coming back," she continued, starting to cry. "Draco told me that the doctors don't even know. I couldn't have you living in a lie, Hermione, you have to know that—"

"Mum, I don't care," I whispered hollowly. "I don't care about who disclosed this to me and living in a lie. I don't care. But damn it, Mum, a-answer my bloody q-q-question!"

I began to cry then, wrapping my arms around myself. My mother reached for me again but I staggered away from her. Defeated, she turned to stand by the mantel, gazing at the picture of her and my father on their wedding day.

"He was in a car accident," she explained softly, stroking my father's face through the picture frame. "It was so sudden, I was numb for weeks, thinking how it just couldn't be real—he couldn't be gone. But he was. It was late, he had pulled a late shift at work even though I told him not to. It was snowing horribly outside and he was making a left turn when a drunk driver came barreling through a stop sign and –and drove your father's car into the water. "

I slammed my eyes shut, picturing it all in my head, watching helplessly as my father tumbled off the cliff by our house into the dark depths of the ocean below.

"The driver never even stopped; it was a hit and run," my mother continued hoarsely. "By the time they were able to reach his car and pull him out, he was—was gone…"

I felt suffocated, like someone was holding a plastic bag over my head and instructing me to try and breathe, only to find that I couldn't. I felt trapped, chained. I couldn't do this. I had to leave.

"Sweetheart, I'm—" she started, placing the picture back on the mantel.

"Don't," I heard myself rasp.

Was that my voice?

"Hermione, it was a long time ago," she whispered desperately.

"Almost six years. I know. I was pregnant with Haden, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were," she answered, her eyes instantly moving toward the kitchen where the little boy sat on the counter, making zooming noises as he crashed one cookie into another.

"That's why I had such depression when I was carrying him," I noted, not entirely knowing who I was telling this to. "That's why I started gardening, why Pamela insisted on staying. That's why I left work."

Again, that suffocating feeling washed over me again and I felt like someone was squeezing heart until it bled dry. Clutching my heart, I stumbled away from the couch, catching my knee on the corner of the coffee table and ripping a role in my jeans. My mother reached to me, willing me into her arms, but I couldn't look at her. I had to be alone. I had to –

"I'll watch Haden," my mother said as I stumbled to her. She put a chilled hand on my trembling shoulder and squeezed. "Don't worry. I understand. I'll bring him over later, when you've had some time."

I wished I could hug her, comfort her, tell her how sorry I was, tell her I loved her and missed her, and tell her thank you, but I couldn't. All I could do was grapple desperately for the knob on the white wood door. Suddenly, the familiar smell of apple air freshener and honeysuckle didn't bring me comfort. Instead, the scents I'd once held so dear to my heart tried to strangle me. They made me sick.

When I stumbled outside, I smelled the rain wafting through the trees. The sky was dark and rumbling, ominous and mocking. I ran, suddenly not caring where my feet took me—I just needed to feel in control of something again. The rain pelted my face, my jacket long forgotten at my mother's house. It was freezing outside, yet all I felt was the ice inside my quivering soul. My skin felt stretchy and old, barely covering my bones.

I needed to feel something. The dark clouds above me tumbled and shoved into each other, ripping and gnashing their ferocious teeth, howling my name, shouting obscenities at me. I continued to run, my heart barely beating within my chest. I tore away from the piercing shrieks of lightning as it shook the ground behind me. My feet slapped against deep puddles, the water seeping in through my sneakers. My feet felt like ice blocks, chaffing against the soles of my socks.

I came to a shuddering stop in front of the ocean, feeling its salty breath hiss at my face, enticing me closer. The waves licked at my shoes, coaxing me nearer to the rising tide. I felt compelled to jump forward and lose myself within the frigid waves, longed to feel their icy arms encircling my waist, holding me close.

_Hermione_, the waves murmured.

I swallowed, turning around. The beach was deserted, several abandoned beach towels catching the wind hungrily and whipping through the air in a zigzag. I slipped off my shoes, throwing them far up the sandy path. My fingers shook as I tore the sopping socks off my feet and swung them toward my shoes. My fingers felt like death against my toes.

When my feet timidly touched the sand, they greedily sunk into its soft and welcoming depths.

_Hermione._

Again, the calming whisper urged me forward. The waves licked my feet and I shivered as they wrapped around my ankles and tugged me closer. I allowed the waves to drag me deeper, my teeth chattering. It was remarkable at how much I could feel with these waves dancing around my body. Another loud howl echoed around me, the sky emitting a long, jagged piece of lightning that crashed somewhere in the distance of the ocean.

The rain spiraled faster, melting with sighs of pure ecstasy against my hair, sliding down the bare of my neck, through my dripping short sleeved brown shirt. My jeans felt heavy and lethargic, rubbing against the porcelain of my legs. The wind sped up fiercely, tearing at my curly locks. I stumbled forward, breathless against its hand.

_Deeper,_ the ocean moaned, clawing at my hands. I was chest deep now and within seconds, the frigid water wrapped around my neck. I closed my eyes, distantly hearing my father's booming laugh, pounding in my ears, engulfing my mind. It hurt to hear him, but I stepped forward, my arms open wide, seeking him. But his voice was gone, carried away by the ocean's dark chuckle. Angered that the ocean would steal away my one small hope of having him near me—that this was all just some horrible nightmare—I swatted the mocking waves away from my lips, suddenly feeling their slumbering need building around me.

My eyes instantly opened and I shook with fear as I was lurched forward against my will. Suddenly, the ocean did not seem so enticing and beautiful anymore. It was hungry and monstrous, dark and foreboding. I suddenly had no control. My feet dragged against the sand, slipping through the current until I could no longer touch the bottom. My clothes sagged on my body, giving up hope, dragging me down faster. The enormous wave continued to build in front of me, powerful and horrible as it clawed its way toward me.

It came upon me, crushing my bones as it took me under, tearing at my shirt, grazing the soft skin of my stomach with its bony, unwelcome hands. I broke the surface, gasping and coughing, but the ocean would show no forgiveness now—it realized my retreat, that its spell upon me had broken, and it could not stand to let me escape. Another wave slammed into my body before I had time to gain access to another breath. It overtook me with a growl, shoving me deep into the bedded surface of the sand, strangling me with its weight, ripping at my hair, pressing against my chest.

I felt the release as the wave faded, relinquishing its hold on me, but not before another wave followed heatedly in its wake, racing to claim me. It shoved me into the sand once more and the force was so powerful, I released the breath I had been fighting to keep within me. Panic instantly flooded my body as I watched my precious air bubbles zip toward the surface, so far away from me. I fought and kicked, but to no avail. I was trapped in a death grip.

I wondered if this was how my father had felt before he died.

With a heavy sob, I surrendered to its power. Memories and images flooded my mind—me screaming at my father and slamming the door in his face, Voldemort bringing a lifeless Harry back in Hagrid's arms, Hogwarts crumbling around me, Bellatrix Lestrange holding that wicked knife to my chest as she carved into my neck. I saw Haden and Jasper lying dead next to me with Malfoy clutching them, his eyes asking me why I hadn't gotten to them in time. Why I let them die, just as my father died.

"Don't you dare think on it one more second," snarled his voice. "Your father would be so disappointed in you right now. Get up. GET UP."

I startled inside, but my body had given up fight, sinking lower and lower, my eyelids drooping.

"Don't abandon your family," Malfoy hissed all around me. "Don't let the darkness win. You are stronger than this. Come back. Come back to your sons, your home, your friends, to those who love you and can help you. Come back to me."

His harsh words slammed into my body, levitating me upward. My body felt so weak, so tired, yet I kept listening to him, pumping my legs furtively, praying to break the surface. My lungs burned, shrieking at my abuse. His voice was everywhere, demanding me upward. Suddenly, all I could see was his face, smiling as he laughed with me that day at St. Mungo's and told me his favorite color. He was everywhere, everywhere…

I broke the surface with a gasp, sputtering and choking. As if in some kind of miracle, I was close to the shore. I could feel the ground as I lumbered to the sandy beach. Once I reached the shore, I collapsed with a labored gasp, clawing at the wet sand as I dragged myself up the sandy path and away from the ravenous ocean. It was still raining and I was shivering madly now. I crawled up to my shoes and sopping socks, pulling them onto my frosty feet and chaffing my arms to trap some spell of warmth inside me. If I had my wand, I would use it to cast a warming spell on my skin, but it still resting on my bedside table.

I couldn't go back there, not when I was in this state. I couldn't risk Haden seeing me like this. I didn't want to go back there and smell my mother's familiar scent with the absence of my father's. As I continued to stumble back to the manor, I began to shake violently, remembering what had just taken place inside my mind mere moments ago. Strange as it was, I could still hear Draco Malfoy's voice, clear as day, slapping me back to life.

My father had once saved me from drowning. As a curious four year old, I had wandered away from my family at my neighbor's party and snuck into their backyard. I had only wanted to see what was inside the water, lit up only by the moon, but I had slipped and fallen, hitting my head on the edge of the pool before sinking into the deep end. I hadn't screamed, but my father had in that instant, spun around to look for me, and saw the blood on the concrete. He'd raced outside and without hesitation tore in after me, reviving me. He'd stayed up with me all night at the hospital as I got stitches, telling me how much he loved me, how he would never let anything bad happen to me, how he'd always have my best interest at heart, always my protector.

I swallowed hollowly, feeling a strong lump form in my throat. The last memory I had of my father was me slamming the door in his face as I stormed out of the house the night before my wedding to Ron. I told him that if it pained him so much to see me marry Ron, he didn't even have to show up at the wedding, because I didn't want him there. And he hadn't.

"Oh, Dad," I gasped, my throat hurting as I did so. "I'm so sorry."

I wished desperately that I could take back those awful things that I said to him. I wish that I would have listened to him more. He told me day after day that he didn't think I should marry Ron and I had never stayed long enough to hear him out. I'd never fought with him so much in my life than I had before I married Ron. And perhaps he was right. Perhaps Ron wasn't right for me. Maybe someone else was…

My thoughts turned to Draco Malfoy and how it had been his angry voice that pulled me out of the water. It had been his voice that gave me hope to move. But why?

I was barely aware of the door turning as I entered the house. I could hear Jasper upstairs in his room, laughing with his friend. My whole life was quickly changing and for once I had no idea where it was going to lead me, yet I had no way of stopping it.

I felt sick, the familiar feeling of numbness creeping back into my frozen body. It was spreading through my fingertips, wrapping its emotionless cord around my slow beating heart. The stairs creaked under my weight.

"H-Hermione?"

Pamela's voice barely fazed me and I turned about, staring down at her with dull brown eyes. When she took in my shaking form, my dripping clothes, she looked shell shocked, as if she's just witnessed a ghost.

"Hermione, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Fine," I said, my voice as coarse as sandpaper. "Caught in the rain. Haden at Mum's."

That was all I could manage—my world was collapsing fast. I shut my bedroom door behind me, hurrying over to my bedside table to clutch my wand. I locked the door swiftly and charmed it with powerful incantations. I knew Pamela would probably come up to pester me and I didn't quite feel like being bothered right now. I felt weak, so very weak. And tired.

The door to the bathroom creaked as I opened it and slipped into the bathroom, again charming the door. I scavenged in my closet for warm clothes, plucking out a long sleeved dark green sweater and warm black cotton sweatpants. But I was still shivering. I was so weak. I hadn't eaten today. I grabbed the warmest jacket I could find, which belonged to Malfoy I guessed because it was on his side. The jacket was black—of course—and simple. It was obviously Muggle and I felt a tug in my stomach at this thought. Actually, I was surprised by how much Muggle clothing Malfoy owned. He had several plaid button up shirts, plain white and black tees, v-neck sweaters—I was quite fond of those on men—, and jeans.

But I was too cold to keep on going through his clothes. I pulled the jacket over me, slipping my arms into his sleeves. They were longer than my jacket sleeves and the jacket hung on my short torso like a mini dress, climbing down to my thighs. The soft lining inside the jacket was so warm and cuddly that I wondered why Malfoy didn't wear it more often in the winter. But perhaps he did. I had no way of knowing. I'd never been married to him in the winter.

Grateful for the jacket, but still feeling wretched, I positioned myself in front of the mirror. My hair hung lank and clumpy down my back, spilling over my shoulders and obscuring my pain-filled, dull brown eyes. All the luster had disappeared from inside my normal honey eyes, leaving them muddy like the earth outside. My skin was sallow and my lips were purple, as were my shaking hands.

I felt the tears well in my eyes, feel the lump lodge in my throat, yet I could not cry. I was so emotionally spent, so weak—I barely had time to realize that I was falling until I hit the tile of the bathroom, collapsing in an exhausted, depressive heap, still shivering until my vision swarmed to black.

* * *

When I came to, I noticed several things—the throbbing in my head, the tingling of my arm underneath my sagging weight, and a loud banging noise somewhere in the distance. It sounded louder now that I listened, as if it might be just beyond the bathroom door. If I strained my waterlogged ears, I even thought I heard people screaming my name.

Suddenly, there was a deafening crash and I jolted against the freezing tile. The wind still howled outside from the bathroom window and it was inside the bathroom, darker than before.

"Hermione?" something hollered from inside the bathroom. I startled at his voice, sounding so panicked and rough as he cried out for me.

"In—h-h-here—" I whispered hoarsely, shivering madly. I doubt he could hear me.

"I—I knew somethin' was wrong when she came home. I just thought that she'd gotten caught up in the rain like she told me, but she hasn't come out of that room since she got home. It's been four hours, Draco. And her mama just dropped off Haden and asked me how she was. Draco, her mama told her about her dad."

Draco growled and Pamela blubbered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. It's been so long since I've seen her like that. I didn't think—"

"Seen her like what, Pamela? Dragging herself upstairs like a drowned cat with vacant eyes? Are you stupid?"

His words were like a slap.

"Oh God, what if she's done somethin' to herself?" Pamela gasped.

"She wouldn't," he barked, sounding defensive.

I wanted to hug him for that. I wasn't suicidal. I had no wish to cut open my veins and bleed to death. I was just incredibly sad and so, so tired…

"Hermione?" Pamela called out. "Try the bathroom, what if she's in the bathroom?"

Instantly, I heard hurried footfalls. There was a pounding on the door.

"Hermione, are you in there?" Draco demanded. "Hermione let me in, now!"

_I can't,_ I wanted to cry, _I can't move. I'm sorry._

All I could manage to get out of my throat was a demented squeak. But he heard me and his fists banged harder against the doorframe.

"Stupid—bloody—enchantments—" I heard him muttering savagely as he countered my locking spells and finally burst through the door, swearing loudly as he did so.

I couldn't bear to look at him. I felt ashamed. I didn't want him seeing me like this. I could imagine his face, staring horrified down at my body curled up in fetal position, hugging myself and shivering madly in his sweats.

"Merlin have mercy," Pamela exclaimed, just as Draco's long fingers pushed the still damp hair from my face.

"Sweetheart, look at me," he said clearly, his tone no longer demanding or angry.

I was still so scared to see his face, to his the man whose voice had unknowingly saved my life this afternoon. I didn't want to look into the eyes of the man I'd married, the man who had given me the strength and will to live my life.

"Hermione, angel," he insisted, cupping my frozen cheek. "Oh, God, you're freezing."

"He's—gone—" I choked out in response.

"I know, baby, I know," he said to me, grabbing my waist as he hauled me into his lap.

An electric shock powered through me and I pressed my frozen fingers to his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck as he cradled me in his arms. He stood easily with my weight pressed against him and moved out of the bathroom. I buried my head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He was so warm.

He drew in a shaky breath as I did this, shivering as he carried me out of the bedroom. I didn't want to make him cold, but I couldn't resist his unyielding warmth against my frigid body.

"Where are you takin' her?" Pamela asked, having followed us down the hallway.

"To the hearth. The fire calms her," he replied quietly, no longer tense or angry with her.

Once he entered the living room, he set me down upon the couch, prying my fingers from his shirt and releasing himself from my chokehold around him. A horribly empty feeling washed over me and I began to shake again, reaching out for him.

"N-N-No," I cried.

"Shh," he whispered, stroking my cheek. "I'll be right back."

And then he disappeared from my view. I could hear him talking to Pamela in the kitchen.

"C-Come bac-k-k," I croaked, but I doubt he heard me.

I was alarmed by how much I craved his touch, how much I needed him pressed up against me. It horrified me.

"Give the boys their dinner upstairs and put them to bed," I heard Draco instruct. "I don't want Jasper seeing her like this."

"What about your dinner?" Pamela asked. "You both should eat something."

"I can survive one night without a meal, Pam," he snorted. "But bring her some hot chocolate and some warm food, if you will. She's not only shaking from fatigue and cold, as you know."

"You're eating, too. I bet you haven't eaten all day, the way you work," Pamela insisted and within minutes Draco was back in the living room.

I reached out for him, but he did not come to my side. My hand fell limply away, rejected.

"_Incendio,_" he hissed and suddenly I realized why he had stayed away from me. He had made a fire inside the massive fireplace.

Without saying a single word, he returned to my side and took me back in his arms, pulling our bodies down beside the fire. He quickly stripped himself of his long black silk cloak and wrapped in around my shoulders, rubbing my arms as I leaned against his chest. His dark blue dress shirt felt soft and warm against my cheek and I could feel his rapid heartbeat from within his chest. It was comforting, that hard beating rhythm of him, assuring me that he was still beside me.

I didn't know how long he stayed next to me or how long he held me, but soon our food was gone and my hot chocolate was swelling warm within my stomach, the chill beginning to lift. I could feel his fingers leaving impressions in my back, sliding against my neck, whispering through my knotted hair. His breath was heavy and hot on my skin and I wiggled closer into him, wishing to drown away in his embrace.

But I was too frightened to sleep, frightened of more nightmares, of seeing him and my children dead. I didn't want any more death. I hated death.

"W-Will you sing to me?" I asked timidly, breaking our long-stretched silence.

It was a silly thing to ask Draco Malfoy, but that was how my father used to calm me to sleep as a child and force the nightmares away.

"I'm not that good," he breathed into my hair.

"Please?"

His answer came in a relenting sigh, beginning to pull away. "You'll be the end of me, you will."

"I won't," I told him, reaching up to grab his hand.

I entwined my fingers in his, feeling the warmth of his palm in my freezing one. Daringly, I lifted my eyes to him for the first time that evening, reaching up with my other hand to touch his cheek. He was so warm, it sent shivers down my arm. At my touch, he tore his eyes away from the burning embers and gazed down at me. His eyes were liquid metal, swimming like a swirling pool of silver and flecks of midnight blue.

"Please," I pleaded with him once more.

He shook his head, but not in a way that made me think I had lost the battle. He smiled fondly down at me, entangling his long fingers in my hair.

"There is nothing that you could ask of me that I could refuse to you," he replied, his voice low and mesmerizing.

And so I settled my head back into his lap, feeling his chest vibrate as he began to hum a familiar melody.

"_Now let the day just slip away_

_So the dark night_

_May watch over you_…"

My reaction to his voice was not what I had expected. My whole body began to relax and my eyes drooped, my heart beating in time with his. I listened to his voice as he sang deeply in my ear, stroking my jawline, tracing my collarbone, whispering through my curls. His warm touch and the sound of his deep voice in my ear was enough for me to forget all the woes of the world.

He had lied. He was that good. His voice was deep, melodic, and husky with a slight Irish tint to his normal Queens British accent.

I drifted back farther into his embrace, confident that he would keep me safely there against him. I breathed him in deeply—spearmint and rain—and nuzzled deeper into his warmth, never wishing to leave.

"_Nocturne_

_Though darkness lay_

_It will give way_

_When the dark night_

_Delivers the day…"_

Just before I succumbed to the slumber he had offered me, I could have sworn I felt his feather light lips brush the crown of my head, leaving a faint kiss on my tingling skin. But, then again, I could very well have been far away in the land of dreams by then. So, who was I to wonder?


	12. Burying Frustrations Away

_**Destiny **_

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.

**A/N:** Hey everyone! We have reached past our 200 marker! YAY! Everyone gets cookies! I apologize for the wait, but I've just started back with my crazy school life and have had no time hardly at all to write. A special shout out to all my favoritists, alertists, and reviewers—you make me so unbelievably happy.

I've heard a few things from my wonderful readers. One is their happiness that Hermione and Draco _finally_ had a moment, albeit a depressing one, but still a moment. Another thing I've been hearing is that they want Hermione to get her memory back or start remembering or go back to the beginning of the story, or what have you. Well, if I just went ahead and did that, the story would be done. And it's not near being done yet. We've still got a ways to go. I'm sorry if that greatly disappoints you—I hope you will continue to keep reading.

I apologize for the angst in the previous chapter, and I apologize again for the angst in this chapter—although not as pronounced as the last one. I personally hate writing angst, but when it involves death of a loved one, I find it important to really grasp that sorrow. I've lost someone incredibly important to me over the years of my life and I know that others can feel the very same way. Hermione's dad has been dead for several years, but it's like taking a sledgehammer to her head and beating her brains out when she discovers her father is actually buried in the ground somewhere and she might never get to see him again or say goodbye or settle their fall-out—of course they obviously had over the eleven years she and Draco were together, but in Hermione's mind, the last time she talked to her father, she screamed in his face because he disapproved of her marrying Ron, and slammed the door in his face, ignoring him at her wedding. Now, he's gone.

AND let me make one thing clear—Hermione was not trying to kill herself. She was numb and depressed and went to the ocean, not realizing in her grief-stricken mind that she was making a very un-Hermione-like mistake. Hermione is not suicidal, nor will she ever be. Hermione is usually emotionally stable and very logical—she thinks things through. Yes, she suffered from depression when Haden was born due to complications in pregnancy and the sudden death of her father. But, she was able to overcome it, as is such cases with the grieving process.

One may think that I don't give enough reality to Hermione's new depression because I don't dwell on it long enough to seem realistic. As I have stated before, I _hate_ writing angst and sorrow and death of loved ones. It's like swallowing nails. It's physically painful to me, having lost loved ones and suffered through that same pain. So, I'm sorry for all those angst lovers out there—there will be no dwelling on the sadness longer than necessary.

This is also an extreme turning point in Hermione's "new" life—there will also be another turning point in later chapters. Suddenly, everything she's ever known has changed and she's emotionally weak. The last thing she needs is to be alone, so who does she turn to lean on? Her mother of course, her friends at times, but mostly it is a certain blond Slytherin that keeps her beating on. Hermione is finally starting to realize that Draco means something to her—after all, he _is_ the voice she heard in her head when she was drowning.

Enjoy, my lovelies!

-Annie

* * *

Burying Frustrations Away

* * *

I woke up extremely early—so early that dawn had not yet broken over the horizon. My muscles were stiff and cramped, screaming at me as I curled out of fetal position and stretched my legs over the soft mattress. I stopped immediately, springing forward. A light morning mist hovered over the grass outside, dew sprinkling the dark green tendrils and blades. The glossy curtains swayed in the salty sea breeze, reaching out to me with gossamer hands.

But something was different. I had not fallen asleep in this bed, I was quite certain.

Had he carried me up?

That was a strange thought, but considering oddity of the past couple of weeks, maybe it wasn't so strange. It pained me now, waking up with no one around. I couldn't help feeling a tad bit frightened by the prospect of being alone, so much to the point that I actually _wished_ Draco was still holding onto me—and that is what frightened me all the more.

Downstairs was quiet and carried a morning chill with it. It was so quiet—I wasn't used to it. I was used to waking up, coming downstairs as the boys finished up their breakfasts and prepared to do their studies, greeted warmly by Pamela. But more importantly, I was used to Draco having already left—apart from those rare occasions when we ran into each other in the morning either heading off to work or _at_ work— by the time I woke up each morning.

But it registered to me as I glanced around the foyer that Draco was still sleeping upstairs. The hour was still extremely early and the sky outside was a clean testament to that fact, so obviously no one but myself had woken yet. He must have been exhausted, staying up all night with an emotional overload—myself, of course. The idea of Draco Malfoy carrying me upstairs, asleep in his arms, after witnessing a pathetic breakdown that was so not like me, made my fingers tingle.

It was time that I started facing the fact that maybe Draco wasn't such a bad person after all. It was clear that the man who had bullied me in school was long gone, but could I really accept that? It wasn't that I was holding a grudge against him or anything—I'd gotten over that—but it was more of the fact that I had a _life_ with him. I could understand it if he'd gotten over his arrogance and pride, his prejudices, his horrible habits, and married some other unsuspecting, upstanding woman—maybe someone from Slytherin—but me? It just didn't make sense.

But then again, it did. He clearly wasn't the same person anymore and neither was I. How could it be possible to change so much within a span of a couple weeks?

I was getting a headache _and_ I had been standing at the stairs for two minutes straight as I contemplated the confusion of my life. I took a deep breath.

It was _so quiet_. I was tempted to go upstairs, just to make sure everyone was still alive. In a few seconds, I found myself headed up the stairs to do this very thing—and make sure no one _else_ had died.

I wound through the hallways and opened the slightly ajar door that led to Haden and Jasper's room, poking my head in. Their curtains were drawn against the threat of sun, their small bodies lifting up and down in soft, deep breaths, both in time with the other. Haden's fists were clasped tightly around his blanket, his lips puckered in the sweetest fashion. Jasper was lying flat on his back, his mouth parted, one hand slung over his eyes, the other dangling off his bed.

The charmed stars on the ceiling were lazily drifting about, sending occasional flashes of very dim light across the boys' faces. They slept on deeply, even as I tip-toed over to them and planted a light, uncertain kiss on each of their brows. I shut the door behind me, feeling strange inside like I always did when I was around them.

I continued down the hallways, eventually ending up opening every door, just to peer inside. I found several rooms—storage rooms, two bathrooms, an empty mirrored room with wood floors and wooden railings on the wall which resembled that of a Muggle ballet studio, except smaller, Draco's study which seemed untouched, and another door.

I paused at this door, not entirely understanding why, but even so, I did. My hand inched forward and I took the golden knob into my hand, lightly twisting and pushing the door open quietly. Inside, the room was dark and had no windows since it was one of the inner rooms toward the middle of the house. It was a small room, cramped even since the bed took up the majority of the space. The walls were a deep burgundy, the wooden desk in the corner was antique and dark wood, the carpet was a deep brown, and the bed was a large mahogany with a burgundy duvet and warm brown pillows.

And then, taking me off guard, the duvet suddenly shifted slightly. I clamped my mouth shut to refrain from crying out and stepped forward, peering over the sheets. Nestled so deep into the sheets of the bed he could hardly be seen, was Draco Malfoy, his normally neat blond hair mussed over the pillow. His face, which as of late had been full of agony, pain, fatigue, and hesitation, now consisted of a certain calmness that made me sigh.

He was breathing deeply, his body nearly completely concealed by the covers. I felt like such a creeper, standing there watching him sleep. But it wasn't my fault that my curiosity had once again gotten the best of me and he had just so happened to be in this room. He looked so vulnerable, all his defenses down to reveal his peaceful state that no one saw.

"Hermione."

I stiffened, my heart crashing to a thundering halt. I waited for him to say something more, for him to ask what I was doing in this room, watching him sleep, but he did not utter another word. I dared a peek at his face—still asleep. His lips parted ever so slightly and he turned so that he was lying on his back. The bed creaked as he did this and his brow furrowed a fraction before returning to its peaceful state. The duvet shimmied downward, revealing a section of his bare chest, which rose up and down, his breathing steady.

I swallowed hard, looking away from his moving chest back to his face.

"Hermione."

"Of course," I whispered, laughing at myself. "He's talking in his sleep."

As soon as I realized this, I thought of another thing. He was dreaming of me. My heart had not ceased its hammering and I could not calm myself down. Swallowing again, I tore from the room and down the stairs. I tried to distract myself as I Floo-ed to the Ministry early, but for the remainder of the morning, Draco was on my mind, calling out to me in his sleep.

The thought of taking the day off due to the shock of the news I'd received yesterday was just not acceptable. I knew if I had any chance of not losing it all over again, I would have to put my mind to use. By two o'clock, my mind was still racing with absurd thoughts. It was then that Ariana finally took action and decided to distract me by knocking on my door.

"Come in," I called and she pushed open the door, giving me a small wave.

She held up a bag of Asian cuisine and shut the door behind her, shrugging as I quirked a questioning brow at her.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked as she took a seat across from my desk.

"Well, I'd noticed that you hadn't come out of your office all day and decided I'd bring you lunch, knowing how you would forget to eat at all on desk duty," she explained easily, flashing me a smile as she handed me a container of rice.

"You didn't have to do that," I said and she rolled her eyes.

"'Course I did," she laughed. "You would have starved had it not been for me."

"Well, then, I suppose I'll have to thank you for saving me from my impending doom," I said, sprinkling soy sauce over my jasmine rice.

"You are very welcome."

We ate in silence for several minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet after a busy day of paperwork and disputes. Harry had been up to his eyeballs in files, as had I, and I was sure that Ariana was suffering the same fate. Some days, as she had explained, the Auror department just stayed in their offices dealing with paperwork and disclosures, running around offices. One might consider that a slow day, but it was worse for Aurors, whose jobs normally consisted of apparating and solving problems, occasionally even assisting the Magical Law Enforcement squad on their cases.

"I hate paperwork," Ariana muttered, nudging one of my files about Tobias Smutherling—a deranged wizard that had been giving the department a lot of grief lately, according to Harry—away from her. "I don't know how you've managed to clean five whole files today without assistance. It's your first desk duty day since you lost your memory and you're acting like you are a professional."

"Aren't I?" I joked and she rolled her eyes.

"On normal days, yes, but I would have thought you'd at least need _some_ help, considering you've never done this stuff before," Ariana continued.

"It's not so bad. I struggled a bit with the first two, had to go back and change a few things, but really, it's just busy work," I told her, forking a pile of rice into my mouth.

"Hear, hear!" Ariana agreed, clashing her fork against mine in a "cheers" fashion. "Did you hear about that cross-dressing wizard in Surrey who started exploding garden gnomes and using the torture curse on them, demanding they tell him where Lord Voldemort has gone to?"

I blanched, coughing on my rice.

"No!" I laughed and Ariana nodded, giggling.

"Apparently he's been living in the underground all these years and didn't have a clue that Voldemort has been a goner for all this time. He thought the gnomes were conspiring against him. It was quite amusing to read about, but then apparently, just this morning, he got loose from confinement in St. Mungo's where they were checking his brain stability, and went on a bloody rampage across Surrey, torturing _children_ for information about the Dark Lord. Nutters," Ariana sighed. "Harry sent Biggens and Aubrey down there this morning to get a hold of him and he sent Biggens to St. Mungo's with severe scarring."

"That's horrible," I said, although I had no idea who "Biggens" was. "They captured him, right?"

"You bet," Ariana said. "He's locked away and Harry's questioning him right now, although I don't really see the point since it's obvious he's a complete whack-job, but he's the boss."

"Well, he could be a farce, pretending to be nutty so that they won't do him harm," I suggested, but it didn't seem all too likely.

"True, I just think that Harry's wasting his time," Ariana said, snapping open her fortune cookie, reading the fortune. She snorted. "Well, isn't that ironic. 'In order to get to the rainbow, you must first endure the rains.'"

"Why is that ironic?" I wondered, snapping mine open as well.

"My life seems to be heading into a downpour right now," she sighed, stroking her wedding ring. "I'm really worried about Ron. He's so distant."

"It'll be alright," I comforted, gesturing to her fortune cookie. "The Fates even say so. You'll be at the rainbow soon enough. Hang in there."

"I never thought I would here Hermione Granger agreeing with a paper stuffed inside a cookie," snorted Ariana and I sent her an eye-roll. "Well, go on, read yours."

"Very well," I laughed, opening my fortune. "It says, 'Your father loves you and is always with you. Remember…that…'."

Ariana blinked. I choked.

"Is this some kind of joke?" I demanded, throwing the fortune down on the desk. "Because if it is, it isn't very funny."

Ariana gawked down at the fortune, blinking repeatedly.

"Crazy Chinese ladies—they know just what to say. Can you believe the odds?" Ariana whispered. "It's like fate."

"Right," I said stiffly, rolling my eyes at the notion of 'fate', swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat. "Well."

"Oh, Hermione," Ariana sighed, grabbing my hand. "Maybe it's just the Angel of Destiny giving you reassurance that you made the right choice."

"I beg your pardon?" I said, lunging at her words.

"Oh, don't look _so_ surprised. You think that you've never told me about your mum's bedtime story of the Angel of Destiny before?" she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Look, Hermione. That fortune was obviously meant for you. A lot of things are."

"I don't believe in destiny," I said firmly and she nodded.

"I know you don't, but maybe you should."

With a small smile, she patted me on the shoulder, deposited our lunches into the waste bin, and left my office to return to her files. No matter how hard I tried in the next hour and a half to finish the file on my desk, I could not concentrate on anything but my father. Oh, how I missed him.

I clocked out at three thirty, sighing as I locked up my office for the day and wished Harry a good evening. When I arrived back at the house, it was empty. I assumed that Pamela had taken the boys to the beach again or the boys were playing at their friends houses while Pamela rested in her guest house. Again, though, the house was empty and silent. I didn't like it.

I couldn't stand being tucked away in this big house with no noise. I missed my boys, I missed Pamela, and I even missed Draco. I missed Ron. I missed my mum and dad. And I really hated being alone.

"Snap out of it, Hermione," I told myself, depositing my purse in my room and changing into more comfortable attire before descending the stairs. "Just do something and get your mind off of things."

So, I did. I went to work, cleaning an already clean house, scrubbing an already porcelain sink, mopping an already pristine wood floor. It helped me relax. It was rather ironic, me cleaning to feel better. My mother used to clean and clean whenever she'd get upset and I had no idea why because as a child, cleaning was my own personal horror movie, but it's what helped her through her frustrations. And although cleaning helped a bit, it really ended up doing nothing for me.

Instead, I turned my frustrations to cooking. It was something I hadn't done in a while, considering Pamela had been cooking lately to "help me out". But not tonight. Tonight I was going to make the dinner, set the table, and care for my family. I was going to accomplish something with my day.

As I prepared the chicken marsala, I could feel my frustrations ebbing away slightly as I put my whole into preparing a meal. It felt good to do something with my time, to put my thoughts away from the quiet, the loneliness, the sadness.

"Mummy home?" called Haden as the door leading to the garage slammed open and the little boy tore through the living room.

"In the kitchen!" I hollered, dropping my wooden spoon on the counter and rushing to greet the little boy as he flew into my arms.

I scooped him up and swung him around, holding him tightly against me. He felt so warm and so cuddly.

"Where were you?" I asked and Haden smiled.

"I was at the beach with Pammy, but Jasper went to his friends house and then Pammy and I picked him up, so he's home too," Haden told me and I ruffled his hair, fixing his crooked wire-rimmed glasses.

"Good, I'm glad you had a good day," I said. "Can you go upstairs and get ready for dinner? That means washing your hands _and_ your face."

"I know, I know," Haden said and bounced out of the kitchen.

I watched him leave, shaking my head. I wished I had the energy he did. I remembered how it was, being his age, and wondering why Mummy and Daddy never wanted to run around and play, why they always got tired so fast. Now, I finally understood how it felt to be an adult and have your energy sapped. I didn't know how my parents did it.

"Cookin'?"

I turned around to see Pamela eying my sauce pan with interested eyes. She inhaled deeply.

"It smells great," she said and I nodded.

"Thanks."

"Want any help?" she offered, picking up the wooden spoon and stirring the sauce.

"No, thank you, I think I've got a handle on things," I said, but she wasn't listening.

"Do you have a salad made? I'll make the salad," she said, heading toward the fridge.

"No, really, I've got it," I told her, more tightly this time.

"Really, it's no trouble," Pamela assured me with a laugh, opening the vegetable drawer.

"You know, I was really hoping I could make this dinner tonight, by myself," I hinted, feeling the frustration bubbling back up inside me, suffocating me.

"And you are," she insisted, sending me a smile. "It looks great. But it could use a salad. I know how much you like my salads. Plus, that way it'd give you more time with the rest—"

And suddenly something inside me exploded, drowning my body in a volcano of repressed fire and rage.

"Damn it, Pamela! Can't I just do _one_ thing to occupy myself with in this _bloody_ house?" I screeched.

As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I smacked my hands to my lips, as if willing the words to go back inside me and never reach Pamela's ears. But of course, that wasn't my luck. Pamela dropped the carrot bag, several carrots spilling out onto the floor. She gaped at me with wounded mossy eyes, filling up with tears that she quickly tried to blink away so that I wouldn't see her weakness at my anger, but I saw just the same. She cleared her throat and sank to her knees to pick up the fallen veggies.

I felt horrible for erupting like I did. I truly felt terrible. Why would I yell at someone who had been there for me since moment one like that, no matter how upset I was feeling? This wasn't me, yet I couldn't break away from the darkness that was engulfing me.

"I—I'm so sorry, Pamela," I whispered, reaching out to her as she passed me to throw away the soiled carrots in the trash.

"No, no, I get it," she said hurriedly, clearing her throat and avoiding my touch. "I get it. I'll leave you alone. Sorry for imposing."

"Oh, Pamela, you weren't—"

But she had already abandoned the salad and shut herself in the library. I got back to work, despite how horrible I felt, hoping that some time away from each other would benefit us. Suddenly, cooking the meal by myself didn't seem like such an accomplishment. Soon, the table was set and the food was waiting patiently to be devoured.

"Dinner's ready!" I called and within minutes, the boys were sitting around the table in their usual spots.

Pamela took her time, making sure not to look at me as she sank into the seat next to Haden.

"Where's Daddy?" asked Haden.

"Well, I'm sure he's on his wa—"

"I'm right here, buddy," said Draco.

I spun around, banging my knee on the edge of my chair and flushing and my clumsiness. He was standing in the doorway, looking at the meal, loosening his tie. I swallowed dryly, watching his movements.

"Looks great," Draco said and took his seat next to mine.

"Hermione cooked it _all_ herself," Pamela stated, her tone off key.

"Really? It looks very good, Hermione," Draco said, flashing me a smile.

"I just thought…Well, I don't know what I thought. Guess I just needed to cook," I said quietly, sitting next to Draco.

The silence at the dinner table was horrendous. Draco and Haden didn't seem to notice the tension between Pam and me, but one person did. Jasper hardly ate a thing the entire time, just staring at me with narrowed, worried eyes. By the end of dinner, he was staring so intensely at me, I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"Jasper, are you quite alright?" I asked.

"_I'm_ alright," he said. "Are _you_?"

"Of course," I lied easily, standing up. "Would you like me to take your plate?"

He suddenly threw his fist down, shaking the peas off his plate.

"Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean you can lie to my face!" he snapped, standing up and coming over to me.

"Jasper, what on earth—?" exclaimed Draco.

Jasper suddenly threw his arms around my waist and clutched me tightly.

"I know you're sad again. I know you, Mum, and I know this face," he sniffed, reaching up to touch my cheek. "I don't want you to be sad. Please, don't be sad again. I can't go through that again. Neither can you. I miss you, Mum. Don't go back there."

I was stunned and moved to the point of tears. They swam greedily down my face as my little boy clutched me like a safety blanket, afraid that if he let go, he'd never see me again. Yes, Jasper was the child that was most in tune to my feelings, and it was times like this that I hated it. Just because I was hurting shouldn't mean that my son should be hurting too. I couldn't believe it, but my grief was choking my son as well as me. I couldn't allow that, but I had no idea what to do.

"I'm sorry, Jazz," I whispered, hugging him back. "I'll be better in a little bit, I promise."

"I love you, Mum, don't forget that," Jasper told me.

I lifted my hand and placed it on his pale cheek.

"I won't," I promised, giving him a smile that calmed him a bit. "Now, go finish your peas."

He did as he was told and I excused myself to clean the dishes. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my hands were red and stiff, staring at one point on the wall. I had no idea how to get rid of all these pent up feelings. I felt like exploding, but I couldn't exactly figure out why. I just felt overwhelmed. And _Merlin_, I missed my father.

"'Mione, you okay?"

His hand came out of nowhere, resting on my shoulder. I could feel his touch, even through my red T-shirt. His touch sent so many emotions rocketing through my body all at once that I instantly drooped forward, my elbows sinking into the soapy suds in the sink. His affect on my body was so frightening.

"Sweet Salazar, Hermione! Your _hands_!" Draco exclaimed, grabbing a towel and securing it over my rubbed-raw hands.

I swallowed, trying to concentrate. I couldn't—I couldn't—not with him touching me. This new emotion was so overpowering. I had to get away from him.

"Don't touch me," I pleaded, desperate to think clearly again. "Please, just...don't..."

His touch comforted me, but perhaps I didn't want to be comforted right now. I just wanted to be alone.

I instantly regretted—_regretted!_—saying those words to him. He drew back like I had slapped him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, begging him to understand. He nodded, somehow knowing me all too well. "I'm so sorry."

I fled out the kitchen door and into the garden. The sun was falling swiftly, illuminating the trees in orange and pink hues. It was so breathtakingly beautiful out here—like a fairytale.

And then I remembered the photo album sitting upstairs on my nightstand. There was a photograph in it, of me in this very same garden, covered in damp earth, shoveling madly away at the soil. The photograph had been labeled "Burying Frustrations Away". I remembered it so clearly now—the grief and pain on my face, the determination in my movements, the softness of my touch against the petals of the potted plants.

Gardening had helped bury my frustrations away once—who's to say it won't help again? It was the same type of situation, right? And what harm could it do?

I sunk to my knees, grabbing shovels and rakes, clawing into the earth, depositing seeds and bulbs, repotting flowers. Roughly an hour later, I sat back on my heels and admired my work, reveling in how it actually _helped_, how much more in control I felt as I had helped the dying flowers come back to life.

I felt _so much better_.

The door opened with a timid creak and I glanced up at the newcomer. My eyes softened on the pale blond haired boy as he came toward me, dressed in his pajamas.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" I asked him softly as he came to kneel beside me.

"I couldn't sleep," he informed me.

His lower lip trembled and he set his jaw firmly, holding back his emotions as I had done so many times today. I knew that if I taught him to do this, he would just end up exploding as I had done. It was a fault that I had tried so long to overcome, but no one was perfect. I still had improvements to work on, even in my thirties.

I held out my arms and Jasper sunk into them gratefully, finally breaking down and taking me with him. We cried together, clinging to one another, until we both fell exhausted to the soil. Oh, my beautiful little boy. How was it possible for him to know me so well? How could he look so much like Draco and have my eyes? Why did he have my stubborn pride, but Draco's cunning charm and pensive, debonair gait? How was it so possible for such a boy to exist, created from both Draco _and_ me?

The sun had settled completely under the horizon now, leaving us to another night before rising again. Jasper still clutched at my shirt and nuzzled his head into my chest as I cradled him and picked him up. He was _so heavy_. I was able to get him to the stairs before my knees began to shake and I had to rest.

"I'll carry him."

I turned at his voice. Draco came to stand beside me, holding out his arms. I carefully shifted the sleeping eight year old into Draco's arms and smiled softly at him, too tired to keep up my distancing pretenses. I followed Draco up the stairs and into the boys' room. When Draco released Jasper into the sheets of his bed, Jasper called out for me, just barely.

"_Mum_," he whispered.

"I'm here, baby," I assured him, placing a kiss on his forehead as Draco lifted the duvet over Jasper's body.

"Thank you for carrying him up," I whispered to Draco once we shut the door to our sons' room.

"Somebody's got to, you weakling," he said, smirking and poking me in the ribs.

I was nearly floored by his actions, but he didn't look regretful for his playfulness, but rather laughed huskily at the expression on my face.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun," he muttered to himself, and reached out to squeeze my hand. "Night, 'Mione. Sleep well."

I watched him saunter away before it registered that I should say something back.

"You—You too," I called to him.

I heard him laugh deeply as he shook his head.

"Yeah, wouldn't that be a treat," he said and then disappeared into the guest room to spend another night on the creaky bed, alone.

I returned to my room and settled for bed, washing my face and pulling on my pajamas. I crawled into bed with only my lamp light for company and began to read _Jane Eyre. _I was halfway through the seventh chapter, growing more and more tired at each ticking second, when suddenly, the hallways were thrown into shrieking screams. I shot bolt upright, my book flying discarded into the corner.

"Haden?" I hollered, alarmed as the door to my bedroom slammed open and Haden darted under the covers of my duvet.

"Mummy, Mummy, _Mummy!_" Haden sobbed, grabbing my waist and clutching me desperately. "Mummy the—the giant—slug monster—ate me!"

Despite myself, I let out a laugh. Haden buried his head in my stomach.

"The slug monster ate you?"

"It gobbled me up and I was stuck inside its tummy and I saw—saw its heart beating—ew, yucky! Mummy!" Haden cried and grabbed me all the more tightly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It was only a bad dream," I comforted, stroking his hair.

"M-Mummy? Can I sleep with you tonight?" Haden blubbered.

I sighed, smiling down at the boy. His gray eyes, so much like his father's, were unfocused and full of frightened tears.

"Of course you can, honey," I told him, wrapping him up in my arms and turning off the lamp. "Mummy will always protect you."

I would never let Haden know this, in case he got the idea that coming to sleep in my bed every night was okay, but I was secretly pleased that he requested to spend the night with me. For one night, I didn't have to endure the night alone with my thoughts. I felt safe and warm, cuddling my little boy and protecting him from giant little-boy-eating slug monsters. I curled up to him and for once, I had a dreamless, soundless sleep.


	13. Girls Night Out

_**Destiny **_

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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.

**A/N:** Can I just take this moment to tell you how much I love you all? I love hearing all of you and your views and what you thought of such and such chapter. I'm glad that my wonderful readers enjoyed the angst-ridden chapter, haha.

Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Girl's Night Out

* * *

"_Good!_ Now, once more, and try to expand your shield," Harry instructed as he, Ariana, and a man called Rufus Perkins swung advanced offensive spells at me.

It was roughly a week later and I was back at the Ministry, exercising my heart out to its full extent and putting my all into the training workouts I was being forced to do. It was basic training and I didn't really need it, but Harry wanted to be sure I was completely prepared for my job. Shield Training, apparently, was the hardest of all the maneuvers in Auror training, and normally—like it had been for the past week—I would be battling five or seven Aurors all at once, expanding my shield force. But today the Aurors used in my training were all away in Egypt on a top secret expedition. That left Ariana, Harry, and the pudgy, pink faced man named Rufus to train me.

I was grateful that my thirty-something year old body was still in good form and I was able to maneuver around the arena and through the obstacles easily, otherwise I would be in a _very_ sour mood by the end of it all.

"Now, finish it up," Harry pressed, edging closer to test my shield.

I could hear the alarm ticking above me, alerting me that I had seven seconds left to bring this training session down in my favor. Using all my energy, I swirled my wand, breaking the shield, just as I shouted, "_Impedimenta! Stupefy!_" and knocked both Harry and Pudgy-Perkins off their feet. I disarmed Ariana in her surprise and rolled out of the way, just as the buzzer went off, alerting us that my training session was over.

"Well done!" Ariana exclaimed as I tossed her back her wand and she helped Rufus swagger to his feet.

"Couldn't you go easy on us for once, Hermione?" asked Rufus, rubbing his swollen belly.

"Absolutely not," I reprimanded teasingly. "How could you even ask such a thing of me, Rufus?"

"She _did_ go easy on you, Perkins," drawled a new voice.

I nearly exploded in shock, my still racing heart spluttering exuberantly at Draco's entrance. He swept into the training arena, blond head held high and confident. Normally, this kind of an air would have irked me, but it no longer did.

He came to a stop in front of Harry and helped the black haired man clamber to his feet. Harry grumbled his thanks and adjusted his glasses before brushing off his robes. Both Draco and Harry shared a glance and then suddenly they were laughing loudly.

"She sure got you good," Draco guffawed, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

Harry winced slightly and shoved Draco.

"You should have seen what she did to Perkins over there on Wednesday," Harry said. "I was afraid we would have to ship him off to St. Mungo's the way he cried."

I placed my hands on my hips, huffing.

"It was not _that_ bad," I corrected, feeling embarrassed by their praise. "Plus, Rufus didn't cry."

In response to this, Pudgy-Perkins—as Draco and Harry liked to refer to him as— shook his head and set his jaw.

"I most certainly did not," he agreed. "I just had a bit of dust in my eye. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be heading off now. That is, if it's alright with you, boss?"

He cast Harry a glance as he headed to the door. Harry nodded his assent and the door swung closed behind Rufus.

"You two are so horrible to him," I chastised.

"He knows we're just teasing, 'Mione," Harry defended and I sent him a disapproving frown. Apparently, over the years, Draco's carefree teasing attitude had rubbed off on Harry a smidge.

"Even so, you should be kinder."

They both snickered like little boys, but sobered up as I placed my hands on my hips again and clenched my jaw. Draco looked away from me, his gray eyes wandering innocently up to the ceiling, humming as if he hadn't a care in the world. Harry suddenly became very interested in his feet and began to shuffle them slightly from side to side, his eyes intently fixated on them as he did so.

"I agree with Hermione," Ariana chirped, swinging an arm around my shoulder.

"Well, of course you do," Draco commented, peeling his eyes away from the ceiling and rolling them at the pretty girl. "You'll side with her on everything, Ari."

"And don't you forget it," Ariana returned, sticking out her tongue at him with a childish grin.

Draco took that moment to inspect the room, whistling loudly.

"Merlin, Hermione," he said in awe, looking closely at the black marks on the walls and wood floors. "Did you create this mess?"

"It wasn't _just_ me," I said, whipping out my wand and erasing the marks of my attacks from the walls and floors. Soon, the room was spotless once more.

"You sure are something," Draco commented and gave me a once over, his metallic eyes roaming over the curves of my body for far longer than necessary.

I was left fidgeting and blushing like some stupid school girl. As if only then noticing my discomfort, he winked at me and I felt my face flood with raging heat. I sent him a heated glare, but this only made him laugh—a clear, loud sound that danced around my ears and tickled my skin. I fought to keep the smirk from worming its way across my lips as I listened to him chuckle at my expense.

"Was there something you needed?" I ground out, gritting my teeth against forking an insult in his direction or childishly sticking out my tongue at him as Ariana had.

"Yeah, I need _him_," Draco answered lightly, grabbing Harry roughly by the arm. "We're leaving for our bloke's night soon and all."

I had nearly forgotten.

"Oh, right, the Quidditch match," I said, slapping my palm to my forehead. "How could I have forgotten?"

Harry and Draco both shrugged, sharing an amused glance.

"I have no idea," Draco stated plainly, shaking his head in dismay. "It's the biggest match of the season after Ireland. Can you believe this, Harry? My own _wife_ can't even remember when my favorite team is about to play."

"Oh, good grief, give the woman a break," Ariana laughed as I scowled. "You know how much she hates Quidditch."

"Why'd I marry her?" Draco sighed dramatically to Harry who shrugged, smirking.

_Why_ did they have to be in such a good humor today? Of _all_ the days? And right after my training session, too, when my blood was pumping in my ears and my adrenaline was peaked. Suppressing my agitation, I instead turned to Draco, folding my arms stiffly across my chest.

"Make sure you pack an extra set of clothes for Haden; you know how messy he can get," I reminded him.

"I already have," he said, smirking.

"Did you pack their toothbrushes?"

"Check," he said.

"Make sure that Jasper doesn't drink milk before bed—it gives him nightmares," I continued.

He let out an exasperated sigh, though his face was still highly amused.

"I know that, Hermione," he reminded me, but seemed cheered by the fact I had taken such an interest in the children.

"Of course you do," I said. "But if I find out that all you've fed them all weekend is hot dogs and beans I will be _so_ upset with you. And don't even think that you can hide it from me."

"She's all seeing," threw in Ariana mysteriously, waggling her fingers like some kind of over exaggerated mystic.

I elbowed her.

"Hermione, love, what kind of a father do you think I am?" he asked me, pretending to be offended.

His endearment did not go unnoticed by me and I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. He just laughed and blew me a kiss, grabbing Harry by the collar.

"Ciao, ladies," Draco called, his back toward us. "Oh, and Hermione, love?"

I stiffened, growling at the endearment.

"What?" I said to my obnoxious husband, restraining myself from unleashing my irritation.

"Don't miss me _too_ much," he said, turning his handsome head back to give me a saucy wink.

He pulled the door shut behind him and Harry, leaving me alone with Ariana. Once they were gone, I threw up my hands in the air.

"Ooo!"

Ariana raised her eyebrows at me in a silent inquiry.

"He's been getting so cheeky this past week," I explained to her.

Ariana laughed.

"Well, it's about _time_," she said and my jaw almost hit the floor. "What? No, don't give me that look. He's been walking on eggshells with you long enough."

"What does that have to do with him suddenly being so—so—_that_?" I stumbled over my words in my agitation.

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape about this? He's only flirting with you," Ariana laughed.

"He is _not_ flirting with me," I deadpanned.

"He is," Ariana argued, smiling. "Come on, Hermione. Stop being such a prude and loosen up. Since when is it a crime for a man to flirt with his wife?"

My eye twitched at this.

"Since it is Draco Malfoy and—and—he's never done this—it's not—he shouldn't be—I don't—arg!"

Ariana literally broke into hysterical laughter at this and I grumbled past her, grabbing my purse.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry," she giggled. "You're so funny when you're frazzled. You were exactly like this when he first started flirting with you in France."

I blanched.

"And I _allowed_ that to happen?" I gasped, aghast and suddenly very angry with myself for falling for such idiocy.

"Well, it irritated you unceasingly for several weeks, but the more he did it, the more you fired back, and soon you and him were talking like the best of friends," Ariana said.

"Right."

"It is true," she assured me. "Draco's a fun guy. It's one of the reasons you love him so much, because he can be serious, yet he also reminds you to have a laugh now and again."

_If I needed a man who would make me laugh, I'd have married Ron, not Draco bleeding Malfoy, the arrogant prat—what does he think he's on about anyway? Waltzing about, calling me 'love' and 'angel' and 'beautiful' all the time? What's he playing at? Is this some kind of joke? It's not funny, _I fumed silently inside my head.

_You like it, _said that inner voice in my conscious. I mentally cursed my luck. I'd managed to block out that horrible, insensible voice in my head for weeks now, and had been successful, but now—

_Admit it, you like when he flirts with you_, it taunted, _it makes you feel wanted and special._

_Draco Malfoy is a player_, I argued silently, fuming, _he doesn't _really_ think that way. He's just—_

_Being a husband to his wife? Come on, admit it. The idea of being his wife isn't looking that bad—_

"Oh, shut up," I snarled aloud.

"What was that?" Ariana wondered.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "So, are you going to the girl's night at the Burrow?"

She nodded and I was grateful she took the bait, changing the subject away from my absurd husband.

"Absolutely. How about you?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid I won't be there till later. I promised Mum I'd go shopping with her," I told her and checked my watch. "Speaking of which, I should probably head off. I told her I'd meet her at four. I'll see you later tonight, though, yes?"

"You bet. Have fun!" Ariana called as I rushed out the door and down to the elevator lifts.

"Hold the lift, please!" I cried, skidding to a halt in front of an almost-closing lift.

A hand shot out and blocked the gate from closing and I hurried inside. I turned to thank the person that had helped me out, but fell silent as I stared into two large blue orbs, so familiar.

"Thank yo—Ron?"

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted awkwardly.

"I—I—um—that is—" I stuttered and then sucked in a deep breath.

_Merlin, Hermione, _I chided myself, _don't be a fool. Calm yourself. It's only Ron._

"How are you?" I tried again, this time talking coherently.

"I'm decent, and yourself?"

I swallowed, feeling oddly warm. He looked away from me once I caught him staring at me, and shifted his feet, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. He looked different from the last time I had seen him. His face was thinner, a faint stubble prickling over his defined jaw. His hair was a tad longer and his eyes were tired and bloodshot. It was an appearance I'd seen all too often on him—he'd been drinking again.

"Very well, thank you," I replied, wondering why we were being so formal and polite with each other. Why was it so awkward?

"Where are you headed off to in such a hurry?" Ron asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"I'm meeting my mum—she's insisted I go shopping with her," I responded, rolling my eyes.

"We all know how much you love shopping," chuckled Ron and I scrunched my nose up in disgust at the thought of piling through a crowded department store and shuffling through racks of overpriced frilly blouses that wouldn't even look good off the hanger.

"Well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," I sighed, staring at him intensely. "My mother is more important than my sanity."

"Haha, I know the feeling," Ron agreed, his throat low and booming as he spoke.

We fell into awkward silence once more as the lift chugged along. It was strange, but I didn't feel all that attracted to him, despite the fact that I had once been ready to have a family with him. And what scared me more than this realization was the thought that it'd been easier to talk to Draco over the last week than it was with Ron right now and for some reason, I was becoming steadily more uncomfortable with the thought of being with Ron. How warped was this new version of my life? Suddenly, my enemy was my doting husband and my best friend and former husband/fiancé or whatever he had been, was now the one I was forcing myself to have painful small talk with?

"So, where are _you_ headed?" I inquired.

"Quiddtich match," Ron answered. "Dad got us tickets, since Mum is hosting your little girls' night tonight. She insisted Dad ask Harry to come with, but Harry had already booked tickets. So, Dad and I are just meeting up with him there."

"Draco is attending as well," I blurted, wondering why I felt embarrassed telling him so. "He's bringing Haden and Jasper so that I can have a weekend of peace. I'll miss them, though."

Ron's face had gone bright red at the mention of Draco.

"And how _is_ Malfoy?" Ron asked in a tone dripping with loathing.

"He's doing very well," I said and Ron snorted.

"Yes, I'm sure he is."

I couldn't pinpoint why, but his tone and the way he reacted to Draco's name bothered me. Normally, had I still been with Ron before all of this, it wouldn't have come across so rude. But Ron knew Draco was my husband now and had known for quite some time. You would think he'd have warmed up to him by now, at least for my sake.

Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe Ron and I weren't as close as we used to be. And maybe it had all been because of Draco.

"Well, I should be going," I said as the lift came to an abrupt stop. "It was good seeing you again."

"Yeah, you too," he said and as I made to leave the lift, his hand was suddenly around my wrist. "And Hermione?"

I paused, waiting. He looked like he was about to say something, but seemed to suddenly switch gears and veer off in a different direction.

"Tell your mum I say hello."

"I will," I assured him, but he still didn't let go and I swallowed nervously. "I should really go; I'm late as it is."

He broke my gaze and slowly released my hand, nodding. I left him in the lift and nearly ran toward the fireplaces to Floo to my mother's house. As I whipped away from the Ministry in a whirl of emerald flames, I couldn't help but wonder what had just happened, and why, so suddenly, Ron made me feel nervous and jittery—and not in the strangely exciting way Draco made me feel lately when he'd do something that shocked me. No, this feeling was different. It was a bubbling in my stomach that made me feel skittish and shaky. What made me most uncomfortable was that he really hadn't changed much at all. A little older, harder, and colder, but not much different than the Ron I'd married.

I'd always had this cheerful scene in my head of me and Ron and how we would be as adults together, married eventually with a family. It was always very fuzzy because I could never tell where the scene would end up or what my life would be like. I couldn't really picture it because Ron was always the same.

Stagnant and unchanging.

"Oh, there you are," greeted my mother as I stepped into her living room. "I was wondering if I'd have to go shopping by myself."

Her voice brought me back to earth and I laughed at myself for being so serious—I'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Shall we take my car?" my mother asked and within moments we were situated in her powder blue sedan, heading to the local market that my mother loved to shop at.

When we arrived at the shopping center, my mother went straight to her favorite boutique, dragging me along beside her as she forced me to try on different outfits. Roughly two hours later found us sitting at a cafe with our new clothing bags, discussing life and all its absurd wonders.

"—and then, as if the woman hadn't bothered me enough, she went on to tell me how each individual gem has their own special quality and how I wasn't treating them with _proper_ care. Honestly, they're pieces of colorful _rock_—not human beings."

I snorted, listening to my mother express her distaste for her new jewelry teacher. She'd taken up a jewelry class last month in wake of her quitting her monotonous sewing class. Much to her disappointment, however, her jewelry teacher proved to be worse than her repetitive and boring sewing teacher.

"She sounds like quite the character," I commented.

"I've considered taking up gardening," my mother said, taking a small bite of the last of her chicken sandwich. "Do you think you could teach me? I've never had much of a green thumb, but you're so good at it."

I took a swig from my water bottle, furrowing my brow.

"Mum, I would, but I'm not sure I _can_," I replied truthfully. "I don't—I don't _remember _how to. All I know is that it makes me feel better."

"Fair enough," my mother relinquished, but then brightened suddenly as an idea seemed to drift across her mind. "How about Narcissa?"

I sat forward in my chair.

"N-Narcissa?" I stuttered. "You mean Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Draco's mother, yes," replied my impatient mother. "She's the one who taught you to garden so well, right? Do you think she might be willing to teach me? She seems amiable enough."

I feared that hell had frozen over and the world had capsized, spiraling toward oblivion. _Narcissa_ Malfoy—_amiable_? The Narcissa I knew was cold, stiff-shouldered, and regal. The word "amiable" would never have crossed my vocabulary in describing her.

"Are—Are you serious, Mum?" I gasped. "You don't mean to tell me that _Narcissa Malfoy_ sat by and taught _me_ how to _garden_?"

My mother just blinked.

"Of course, sweetheart," she said after a moment, confused. And then it registered. "Oh, dear! You don't remember Narcissa!"

I shook my head fervently.

"Oh, no," I argued, "I remember her, alright. But I don't know how we could possibly be talking about the same person."

"Honestly, Hermione," my mother chuckled. "How many other Narcissa's do you know in the world?"

My throat felt as if something was gripping it tightly with skeletal, potent fingers. How was this world even _fathomable_? I had seen Narcissa's picture on the mantel at my house, her dominating and strikingly beautiful presence hard to miss beside her equally debonair husband. But the idea of having married Narcissa's only son and the spoiled heir to the prominent Malfoy throne was a different feat all together.

The Malfoy's _hated_ Muggles and Muggleborns, and they most certainly despised me. So, how, pray tell, did this ever happen? How was I married to Draco Malfoy, when his _own mother _must have come at me with sharpened shears in the bleak wintry of night, threatening my life if I should dare to defile her son and her reputation?

"Good heavens, Hermione! What is wrong?" my mother asked worriedly, gripping my hand. "You're dreadfully pale."

I gulped, trying to gather my bearings.

"I'd—well, I hadn't thought about Narcissa…" I wheezed.

"Oh, don't worry, honey," my mother insisted. "She loves you. Next time you see her, won't you ask her if she could help me with my gardening? She's always been so talented."

I frowned.

"O-Of course, Mum," I squeaked.

I was in desperate need to get my mind off of Narcissa Malfoy, unable to keep a decent paced heartbeat while I was entertaining the idea of my new mother-in-law. After we'd deposited our food in the trash bins, we headed out to my mother's sedan and were soon crawling down the road, heading for the Burrow.

Our long drive to the large countryside that housed the Burrow was silent for quite some time, but eventually I grew tired of the quiet and being left to my panicked thoughts and so I leaned forward and flipped on the radio. It crackled with static as it searched for connection, finally resting on my mother's favorite station.

Suddenly, the car was filled to the brim with a low, familiar tune. It was a song I had heard many times growing up, for it was the song that symbolized the love between my parents. They had danced to this very same song on their wedding day, would sing it to each other every chance they could, and would never fail to break out into song and start dancing in a public square whenever this very song would come on. The strange thing was, it had never embarrassed me when my parents would show this outrageous affection between them, but I suppose that was just the romantic in me.

I glanced at my mother to see if she recognized the first few strains of the song that meant so much to her. By the small tugging on her lips and the way she slowed the car ever so slightly down the dusty and abandoned country road, I knew she did.

"_I'll be seeing you  
In all the old familiar places  
That this heart of mine embraces  
All day through._"

With a wistful sigh, my mother turned to me and in her eyes I saw a sparkle of glimmering tears. At this display, I swallowed the lump in my own throat as my thoughts veered toward my father.

"_In that small cafe;  
The park across the way;  
The children's carousel;  
The chestnut trees;  
The wishin' well."_

"Mum?"

She perked when she heard my voice and, her eyes still misty, she briefly glanced at me.

"Won't you tell me the story about how you and Dad fell in love?" I asked.

My mother laughed loudly.

"Hermione, you've heard that story a million times," she reminded me. "Why on earth would you want to hear it again?"

I remembered how, as a child and even more so as a teenager, I used to ask my mother to tell me the story about how she and my father fell in love. In a sense, it gave me hope for my own love life.

"Because," I said stubbornly. "Please, won't you?"

"Oh, very well," she chuckled, smiling, and then suddenly she was in a faraway place, remembering everything. "Let's see—I'd just moved to this small plantation in southern England because my grandmother was dying, so we moved up there to help her through her cancer. When I met your father, I'd been living in that run-down town for three months. It was June of 1976 and I had just celebrated my seventeenth birthday. The day was scorching hot and I was working as a waitress with my friend Alice in a small diner by the cinema. I remember thinking how horrible it was that I had to work on my birthday, of all the days."

I smiled, picturing my mother as a teenager, working in a small town that was near non-existent now. It was also funny how my mother was forced to live in such a small town, considering she grew up as a high class doll in downtown London under the wing of a stepford wife and a well respected surgeon. And funniest of all was how she had managed to find the love of her life in such an unexpected place.

"My friend Alice and I were working the late afternoon shift," she continued on. "I remember watching the sun drooping down lower and lower, waiting for it to chime five o'clock so that Alice and I could get ready for our date that night. Alice had set me up with this boy that was on the same rugby team as her boyfriend, and I was really nervous because I'd been single for a year and half and was afraid I wouldn't know how to date anymore. So, when five o'clock rolled around and we hung up our aprons, I was ready to walk down the old street and a few blocks down to Alice's house to wait for the boys to pick us up, but I suppose Destiny had a different plan for me."

At this, I scoffed and rolled my eyes. My mother sent me an exasperated look at my scoff and I quickly pursed my lips. I would refuse to feel bad about not believing in her stupid fairytale—I was rational, like my father, and my mother _knew_ this.

"Just as I was about to start walking down the road with Alice, her boyfriend Jeremy came rolling around the corner in his nice new car," my mother said, rolling her eyes at the memory. "He thought he was such a hot-shot, riding around in that stupid old thing—I swear he'd shine it more than he'd shine his own shoes! Anyway, he rolls beside us and Alice demands to know why he's so early. Jeremy replies that he was hanging out with his buddy—this sophomore at university who he bragged about all the time to make himself look cooler—when he'd gotten word that Tim, the guy I was supposed to go on a date with that night, had bailed."

I shook my head, wanting her to get to the good part already. Who cared if 'Tim' had blown her off? He didn't matter.

"By then, of course, I'd noticed that Jeremy was not alone in the car," my mother sighed, smiling. "He had a young man with him, several years older than the lot of us, roughly. He was quite the handsome fellow, with a lean body and sandy hair which he dared to wear a little longer than I would have liked on most boys. He also had this annoying little smirk on his face that he'd wear all the time—it was so obnoxious."

I laughed at this, imagining my playful father as the flirty player my mother had been introduced to back then.

"Jeremy introduced his self-absorbed friend as 'Rob' and proceeded to tell us how he was a student at Oxford—the school I had been planning on attending once I'd graduated."

She paused, shaking her head at the memory.

"And?" I pressed, eager to hear more.

"Well, Jeremy apologized that I didn't have a date and Alice started to throw a fit, stating that they simply couldn't leave me behind. I, for one, didn't care—I was really nervous about getting back into the dating world after breaking up with my previous boyfriend, who'd conveniently cheated on me, and staying single for over a year. Anyway, Alice _insisted_ I start back in the dating world and stomped her pretty little foot, demanding Jeremy call up the louse that bailed on me and tell him to get his butt over here to take me out."

"She sounds as stubborn as Ginny," I noted, smiling to myself.

"She was _more_ stubborn than Ginny, if you can even imagine," my mother laughed. "And so, that's when 'Rob' pipes up and says that he'd love to take me out. I decline, insisting I should just go home, that I didn't know him, he was much too old for me, etc. And by the end of fifteen minutes, Alice had somehow convinced me to go on a date with this older man and we all went to dinner. He paid for my meal, opened every door for me, and kept up polite and interesting conversation with me, but I had him pegged as an obnoxious player, since every girl in town seemed to know him and flirt with him."

"I still can't believe that Dad was that much of a Casanova," I laughed.

"Oh, he was," my mother said. "So, after dinner, Alice and Jeremy decided they wanted to go dancing, but my feet were sore—I'd chosen to wear heels that day—and I didn't want to go dancing, so Rob and I decided he'd walk me home."

"But you didn't end up walking home did you?" I prompted and my mother rolled her eyes.

"Will you just let me finish the story?" she asked. "Or perhaps you'd like to tell it?"

"No, no," I said, chuckling. "You tell it far better."

"That's what I thought," she said and pressed on. "No, he did not walk me directly home. We began talking as we walked down the streets and I noticed I really liked his company and that he was less obnoxious when he wasn't around Jeremy. He ended up buying us ice cream, which I ended up smashing all over us when I tripped into a trash bin and made a spectacle of myself. But he just laughed and made fun of me, instead of making it awkward. I was secretly pleased by this, but I shoved the rest of his ice cream in his face and stormed off toward the park anyway to keep up my dignity. He followed me and we went to the park near my house, where he pushed me on the swing and we chased each other around like five year old kids. Eventually, we collapsed on the grass, staring up at the sunset."

"And you had a deep conversation," I added when her sentimental pause had lasted too long.

"Yes, yes, we had a deep conversation," she continued, laughing. "I ended up telling him things I hadn't even told Alice about, how worried I was about my grandmother, how I felt ignored by my father, how dysfunctional my parents were and how their marriage was so screwed up. I voiced my fears of getting married and how I was afraid I'd end up just like them, fighting all the time, never going anywhere in a relationship, eventually hating my spouse and taking it out on my child."

I could definitely see how my grandparents had forced my mother to treat her marriage and her children differently. She definitely didn't take after her parents in any sense. It made me sad, however, that I never got to know my grandparents on my mother's side—not really, anyway, considering they'd practically disowned my mother when she married my father.

"I told him that I was probably being silly. After all, what did he—a twenty-four year old playboy—care about a stupid little seventeen year old spoiled rich girl and her petty problems? He told me I was being ridiculous—that's one of the things that I loved most about your father, his bluntness and honesty—and told me that nothing I said was stupid or silly, and that one day he'd prove to me that life could be built on love and people could be happy with one person for the rest of their lives and that it wouldn't be a sacrifice."

She smiled fondly at the memory, turning up the volume to a new song on the radio that I had no recognition of.

"Eventually, I got him to open up to me about _his_ story," my mother continued. "I found out that night that he'd lived in America with his father after his parent's divorce since he was thirteen and that after his father had died when he was seventeen, he and his best friend John had lied about their age and enlisted in the army to fight in Vietnam. His friend ended up being shot and was paralyzed and sent home, but Robert stayed until the end of the war. He eventually returned to England to attend Oxford, but he was in town that summer to take care of his mother, who had just been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. His mother, in fact, ended up living just down the street from Alice's house."

"I'm sure that was hard for him," I said and she nodded.

"It was," she agreed. "I remember feeling horrible about complaining about my petty problems, when he'd lost his father, survived a _war_, watched his best friend become paralyzed, and now, after being accepted into one of the best universities in England, was there to watch as his mother slowly forgot everyone she ever knew."

I couldn't imagine dealing with that. My respect for my father, because of his trials at such a young age, was incredibly high. He was my hero and my inspiration for continuing on, even when I felt my lowest. He never gave up, so why should I?

"Over the summer, Robert and I spent all of our time together. My parents, of course, did not approve of me dating a man who was nearly seven years older than me, and I was forbidden to see him. When school rolled around, Robert had to leave to go back to Oxford and I went back to my last year of secondary school. We kept in touch through secret late night phone calls and letters, going behind my parent's backs, and it was very, very hard. For a time, he suggested we break off and see other people because he felt he was restricting my dating possibilities. So, we saw other people for a while until he came back the next summer and all those thoughts flew out the window."

"You realized what you were missing in each other," I said and she nodded.

"We'd had our break from each other and we'd both grown immensely. I was ready to start my new life and get out of that horrible town my parents wanted to live in. That summer was very hard on both of us, though. His mother had to be put in a home because the disease had worked so fast and progressively that she was too far gone, and my grandmother passed away that summer. It was very hard on our relationship and our romance struggled. We fought quite a lot that summer, breaking up and getting back together and breaking up again."

"But you two got back together," I said, finding myself leaning toward her in my seat, absolutely enthralled by this tale.

"Yes, little missy, we obviously got back together," she quipped kindly at me and continued on. "My mother wanted me to be a valiant, dedicated housewife to a rich man, just as she had been, but I wanted a career. I didn't want to end up like my mother, strapped down to a loveless marriage, baking cookies for the school drive. I wanted to be independent and have a husband who would respect my choices and support me and love me unconditionally, through the hard times and the good times."

"In other words Dad," I butted in and my mother chuckled, knowing I was correct.

"Yes, your father was indeed the dream man I never knew I'd ever love. He was the last person I ever expected to fall in love with, but that I did, and I fell hard," she told me sheepishly. "That fall, I moved out from my parent's plantation—nothing was keeping me there anymore now that my grandmother was dead—and Robert and I went to Oxford together. I stayed with his sister Wendy in her apartment—she was about a year and a half older than I was—and soon we were married. We started dental school together after having you, and there you have it."

The road was now winding in toward the hill that led to the Burrow. In the distance I could see the tall planes of the Burrow's crooked roof coming into my vision. I smiled fondly at the unique country house.

"I miss him, Mum," I sighed as we pulled to a stop in front of the Weasley's pig-pin.

"I know, sweetheart, so do I—everyday. But he's always with you, always looking over us."

"So says my fortune cookie," I mumbled, thinking back to the previous week when I'd opened my fortune cookie and was told that my father was always with me.

"What?" my mother asked.

"Nothing," I said quickly and was thankful when Ariana, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny took that moment to ambush our car.

"Oh, Jean, it's lovely to see you again," gushed Mrs. Weasley, pulling my mother into a tight embrace as Ariana and Ginny pounced on me.

"Someone's hyper," I noted and they both gave me smiles.

"Of course we're hyper!" they roared, acting more like fifteen year old schoolgirls than thirty-something married women.

"How long has it been since we've had a girl's night? Just us gals—no kids, no husbands?" Ariana asked.

"Too long," piped up Ginny.

"Where are your kids?" I asked them both.

"Babysitter," Ariana stated.

"With Andromeda," Ginny replied. "Lily wanted to see Teddy, so it was the perfect opportunity."

"Enough talking!" Ariana announced, grabbing us all and shoving us toward the opening at the Burrow. "We've finally gotten Mrs. Weasley to get someone to install a telly and a player so that we can start showing her our favorite movies. We have cheesy chick-flicks, hoards of candy, and firewhiskey for those of us who are daring party-goers!"

"Let the girl's night _begin_!" exclaimed Ginny, wheeling me inside.

I didn't know whether to be excited or frightened by the events about to take place within the estrogen-packed walls of the newly restored and Muggle friendly Weasley home, but I had no other choice than to follow them inside and await my impending doom.

I groaned as Ginny uncorked a bottle of firewhiskey and offered a shot to my mother, who crinkled her nose and asked what it was, wondering what on earth I'd gotten myself into. I looked to my mother for guidance, but she was already settling herself on the comfortable couch, chatting excitedly with Mrs. Weasley about sewing patterns and crazy jewelry teachers.

"Traitor," I mumbled as my own _mother_ expressed her delight in playing Truth or Dare.

Surely, Draco and the boys weren't debating on which overly-cheesy, tear-jerking-worthy movie to watch. For once, I actually found myself wishing I could be attending a _Quidditch_ game. Draco, I knew, would _never_ inflict such pain on me by forcing me to grin and bear a night of squealing secrets and gushy love-stuffed fluff videotapes. As this thought entered my mind, I found myself _missing_ the cheeky blighter that had been tormenting me all week with his endearments and winks. I groaned.

This was certainly going to be a long night.


	14. Pensive Thoughts

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.

A/N: Special shout outs to my reviewers whom I love very, very much and all my favoritists and alertists! A lot of you are probably wondering why on earth I put in Mrs. Granger's love story. Well, I have my reasons. Truth is, my fingers just got the best of me, and suddenly it just turned into a wonderful reason for Hermione to bond with her mother. We get a look into who Mr. Granger was, the kind of home Hermione was raised in, how Hermione is so much like her mother and yet so different.

And I'm sure some of you are enjoying the fact that Hermione is opening up more to Draco and Draco is becoming less reserved, taking his chances. I'm sure we all know how frazzled Hermione is by this new change—who expects Draco Malfoy to start flirting with them? But hey, we're getting somewhere, right? On that note, this chapter will probably be one of my longer ones, but don't fret because everything in this chapter is important and I have no doubt that you will appreciate this chapter very much. This is a turning point chapter so—

Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Pensive Thoughts

* * *

The birth of July hung over my head like a peaceful willow tree in a tranquil, warm breeze. It was a surprisingly windy summer day, the sun playing hide and seek with the thick cotton swabs dotted across the pale blue sky. I was lounging outside, letting the invisible wind toy with my honey tresses as I lay in a pillow of soft jade. The pages of my book breezed easily back and forth against my fingers, urging me to turn the pages so I could finish the remainder of the novel I'd been ingesting all day long.

"Jazz, slow down. I can't run as fast as you!" little Haden whined as Jasper zipped behind blossoming apple trees and darted away from his brother.

"Oh, come on, Haystack!" Jasper laughed, sounding joyfully winded.

"Show him who's boss, Haden!" I encouraged and the little boy, determined to make his mother proud, sped after his brother with newfound determination and speed.

Haden tackled Jasper to the ground and Jasper sunk to the grass in surprise. The wind carried their laughter like chiming church bells.

"Blah!"

At the sudden exclamation, I jumped up from where I was peacefully lying and turned around, my fingers lightly brushing against my colorful posies. Pamela, who had previously been enjoying some privacy inside her guest house, emerged briskly, a pretty pout plastered to her young face.

"What?" I wondered as she sunk into a lawn chair on the back patio and slumped, her elbows connecting with her knees and her fists meeting her cheeks.

"It's just one of those days," she sighed.

I waited, but she did not continue.

"One of those days," I repeated and she looked up at me with her mossy eyes.

"Yes. One of those days that single women get when they wake up and realize that they've been single for over a year and it's time to change," Pamela offered and then it made sense.

"Ah," I said, patting her on the knee. "Why don't you go on a date?"

"Don't know any men who'd take me out," Pamela said, shrugging. "I used to date, but then the guy I was datin' cheated on me for some hooker-want-to-be. Since then, I haven't really gotten out."

"Well, you should," I pressed. "You've had your time to be single. Now it is time to get back out there and show the male world what you are made of."

"Right," Pamela sighed. "Is it weird that I don't necessarily want to go out there and date random men?"

"Well, no, but I'm not sure what you are wanting," I told her truthfully. "You don't want to be single anymore, but you don't want to go hunting for men, either? Do you expect a man to just drop out of the sky and into your arms, professing his unyielding love for you?"

This made Pamela laugh and she nudged me.

"Of course not," she replied, smiling. "I just want somethin' serious. I want to find a decent man who respects me and will stay true, a real love, like what you and Draco have. One where I can just be myself and know that he'll never want to leave me."

I swallowed dryly.

"So, you're not interested in just dating, you want to have a serious relationship and possibly settle down, that's what you're saying," I guessed and she nodded.

"Exactly," Pamela agreed. "I think it's about time, don't you? I'm almost twenty-three now."

"You're still pretty young," I answered and she threw me an incredulous look.

"Don't you dare think you can get away with preaching about getting' married young," she told me. "You got married young."

"Okay, okay," I conceded. "I think you're ready, yes, but it's up to if you find the right man. It's something you can't just rush into; you have to really consider what you want in a mate."

"I just finally feel like I'm in that place in my life where I'm ready to settle down and be with someone."

"He'll come around eventually," I assured her as I stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of my jeans. "Love is funny like that—it hits you when you least expect it."

"Gah," she sighed again. "I really hate not having a man in my life."

Jasper suddenly gasped.

"Pammy!" he said dramatically, racing over to her and taking her hands. "How could you say that?"

"Yeah!" Haden agreed, climbing into her lap. "We're men! Don't we count?"

I laughed loudly at this.

"We love you, Pammy," Haden confessed.

"We'll never leave you," Jasper vowed and at the same moment, both little boys leaned in and kissed Pamela flush on both cheeks, long enough for her to go beet scarlet.

"Aw, how cute," I teased her. "See? The future is bright. Two confessions of love in one day!"

Pamela made a face at me and then eased the boys off of her.

"Come play tag with us, Pam!" Jasper insisted.

"I don't know—" Pam started, but Haden lightly shoved her.

"Tag!" he cried, tearing down the lawn, Jasper following in his wake. "You're it!"

"Oh, Lord, give me strength," Pamela gave in, shaking her head of glossy red curls and taking after the boys, hollering, "I'm gonna getcha!"

I took this moment to slip inside and saunter up the staircase. It was a lazy Sunday and I felt very at ease, but I still needed something to do. I decided to lay my novel aside for this evening so that I'd have something to curl up in bed with later, and set off to look for something productive to do. I ended up cleaning up the boys' room, stopping every now and again to look at different toys or baubles that belonged to the heirs of the Malfoy throne.

Closing their door behind me, I traipsed through the hallway toward my room, passing by Draco's study. His door was slightly ajar and from what I could tell, he was inside his study, on the phone with somebody, it sounded. It struck me as odd that Draco Malfoy would be using a telephone.

"Yeah, I can be there in a few minutes," he was saying into the receiver. "No, it's no problem. Astoria, honestly, don't worry about it. Look, who else is going to fix the bloody cauldron for free? Even if Blaise wasn't off in Germany right now, he'd be no better at fixing it than you. The cauldron shops are just going to pay you up the wall because they sit around with their wands shoved up their arses all day."

I furrowed my brow, straining to hear more. Who was Astoria?

"Stori, I'm done arguing with you about this. I'm coming over and I'm fixing that cauldron. While I'm at it, I can even make a sleeping draught for Sebastian. Blaise has been telling me how much Sebastian hasn't been sleeping lately," Draco continued, sounding entirely at ease with the woman on the phone. "Astoria, honestly, it's a sleeping draught—fine, then I'll show you how to make the blasted sleeping draught. You realize I got O's in all my Potions classes? No, it was not because Snape favored me! I'm hanging up now, Stori. I'll be over in five minutes. Yeah, I know—goodbye, Astoria."

At the sound of his footsteps, I hurried away and flattened myself against the wall of my room, out of his reach, breathing heavily at almost being caught eavesdropping. I was incredibly curious. Who was this Astoria woman? And why did I feel upset—was that what I was feeling?—at the ease of her conversation with Draco?

Frustrated by my horrid curiosity, I kicked myself off the wall just as my door flew open. I screamed, flying backward into the dresser.

"Draco!" I shouted accusingly as he came in.

His hand flew to his heart and his quicksilver eyes widened.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Merlin, I didn't—I'm sorry—I thought you were downstairs with the boys—I can come back—"

I gaped at him. I'd never seen Draco Malfoy stutter or give any hint to being surprised. I had to literally shake my head to get my brain moving again because he shocked me so much.

"It's fine," I said to him. "You just surprised me, is all."

"I just needed to get some clothes," Draco told me, jutting his thumb toward the dresser. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," I replied, stepping out of his way so that he could open the dresser drawer. "It's your room, too, after all."

_Then why do you keep him barred out of it?_ asked the annoying voice in the back of my head.

_Shut up,_ I silently snapped at the rational side of my brain, _it's not like I'm locking him out. He's free to come in whenever he pleases._

_Right. And I suppose you're going to say he's not a prisoner in that small little guest room with that creaky uncomfortable bed, either, right?_

_Will you shut up?_ I pleaded silently.

_I will when you stop being an idiot._

My inner battle was suddenly caught off short when my eyes zoomed in toward Draco and what he was removing from the dresser. I gulped, wishing I hadn't noticed, feeling the fire creeping through my bones and up to my flesh.

_Oh, look at that,_ the irritating voice in my head sparked up again, _he's getting underwear. You noticed his underwear! And now you're thinking about his underwear. And you're thinking about him in his underwear. You're picturing him with his sculpted chest in only his underwear as he throws you against the wall and—_

"Oh my _God!_" I blurted, my hand ripping through my curly tresses in my haste to block out that heinous voice.

Draco whipped around in alarm, several articles of clothing jumping like jitterbugs out of his grip and landing close to my feet.

"What?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Uh—n-nothing," I replied hastily and bent down, out of reflex, to pick up the discarded clothing. I noticed only too late that the offending garments were his boxers. Feeling myself erupt in an explosion of molten hot lava, I practically threw his undergarments in his face to be rid of them. "S-Sorry! I—I—um—sorry."

He smirked, removing the clothing from his head and shutting the dresser drawer in such a graceful fashion that it made my face burn even hotter.

"What do you have to be sorry for, honey?" he asked innocently, but his eyes glimmered in amusement. He was enjoying teasing me.

"I—you—um—I just am."

"It's not like you've never touched my underwear before, Hermione," he blatantly stated.

I gasped and the voice in my head seemed to snicker in delight._ See?_ it said, mocking me. _He certainly has ravished you before—now you know for certain!_

The thought sent me into a complete tailspin.

"Will you stop?" I growled, not realizing I'd spoken aloud.

Draco, obviously thinking I was speaking to him, smirked and stepped closer to me. His scent—spearmint and expensive cologne—enveloped and ensnared my senses, making it hard to concentrate, hard to function. I was dazed and dizzy. I felt inclined to take him into my arms and breathe him in, but then I realized what was happening and swallowed. He was too close. Why was he so close?

"Why?" he breathed, his face mere inches away from mine, his breath cool on my overheated skin. "Am I making you nervous?"

"N-No," I managed, shoving him slightly, my fingers unintentionally brushing against the panels of his toned chest.

It certainly didn't help that he was wearing a thin white V-neck shirt which outlined every muscle of his upper torso. Seriously, when did it get so hot in here?

"Are you lying to me?" he questioned, his voice low and teasing.

"P-Possibly," I replied, trying to steel myself.

What was this reaction? What was happening to me?

"Hm," he said lightly, capturing a stray curl and twirling it around his long, pale finger. "Interesting."

I found it very difficult to breathe, my chest heaving up and down. My fingers pressed against his chest again, trying and failing to remove him from my presence.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?" I choked out.

"I knew it was you spying on me," he said and I mentally kicked myself.

"I wasn't spying—I was walking to the room and heard you. That doesn't entail spying," I corrected. "So, you should—should go."

"I can stay if you'd like," he whispered in my ear, daringly close.

I gasped as his cool breath tickled the hollow of my throat, his skin never touching me, but the threat of his proximity undeniably there. My heart kick-started.

"Go away," I said pitifully, my voice squeaking in my furtive attempt to remove him from me.

With one final smirk, he—at last—drew away from me, letting the curl trapped around his finger bounce carefully back into place. His sudden physical absence was an incredible feeling, a power that threatened to send me careening forward. My eyes followed as he headed to the doorway, his garments in hand.

"I'll see you later," he told me, his words low and deep.

When he lingered in the door frame a second too long, I had half the mind to tell him to "shoo!", but he just winked at me, as if expecting this reaction and loving every moment of it, and shut the door behind him, leaving me seething and tomato-faced.

"What the hell?" I expressed once I'd semi gathered my bearings, plopping down on the mattress.

I breathed deeply for several minutes, unable to calm my racing heart, which for some irrational reason was swinging in high tempo. When finally my heart had settled to its reasonable pace, I rose from the fluffy white duvet and threw open the door. With my thoughts jumbled, my feet led the way without my direction, and I ended up outside Draco's study.

"Fitting," I muttered darkly and turned the handle, letting the door creak open.

I walked about the office, wondering why on earth my stupid feet had led me to the sanctuary of the utterly psychotic man I was living with. He had to be some kind of madman, to make my body react the way it did inside the bedroom and make my thoughts go all a tizzy.

"Really, does he ever clean?" I complained at the piles of paperwork and files. "How disorganized. How can he even concentrate in this pigsty?"

As if irked at me for demeaning his office, one of Draco's files slipped off his desk and crashed onto my foot, causing me to pummel backward into a shelf. The shelf moaned at my abuse and I turned to face the piece of furniture, only then recognizing the familiar bowl sitting atop the shelf.

"A pensive," I observed, taking the bowl from its station and placing it on his desk.

_What are you waiting for?_ barked the voice inside my head. _Go ahead and take a peek. You know you want to._

_It's not right_, I argued, _it's his private pensive._

_You're his wife, you mushroom,_ the voice egged. _Take a peek. It won't kill you. It's not like he keeps things from you anyway, since you are his wife._

_Well,_ I debated, _I suppose one glimpse wouldn't hurt._

_There's a good girl,_ said the satisfied voice of my curiosity._ Come on, lean over. Just one look. You deserve to see it. You lost your memory. It could help, right?_

"Right," I agreed, plunging my head into the smoky blue abyss.

I was suddenly plopped onto the ledge of a stone bridge. It was nighttime and the air smelled of pine and dirt. It wasn't cold outside, but a lonely, timid wind sighed through the inky sky, whispering secrets to the low fog that clung to the murky water below. The streetlamps were dim and faded, smoky against the hazy night. Up ahead a figure hung over the bridge's stone barrier, dangling his arms over the calm water, staring pensively into the water with his blond head bowed. His hair was long, the perfect color of an angel's wing, and waved down to his chin, dancing with the evening wind.

I recognized him immediately, but I wondered where he was and why he was staring blankly into the dark depths below him.

"I tried for so long to make you proud," he spoke suddenly and his words were exaggerated and slow.

I walked forward slightly and even from my somewhat far off proximity, I could smell the pungent stink of alcohol.

Up close, the young Draco Malfoy looked like he'd been run over by a large truck. His eyes were hollow and deep purple circles hung below his empty clay colored eyes. His lips were chapped and drooped downward, his face ashen, his skin lying loosely on his burrowed bones. He looked haunted and frightening.

In his right hand swung a bottle of pure, undulated Blishen's Premium Firewhisky—the kind of high quality and high alcohol content, the one that Ron could never afford— three fourths of the way empty. It swayed almost as dangerously as he did as he hoisted himself up onto the bridge wall so that he was clinging to the rods that suspended the bridge. Hermione shot forward to grab him, but her hand whispered right through him.

"I tried to make you see me," he slurred, rocking on the soles of his feet. "I wanted nothing more…than for you to _see_ me. For _me!"_

Suddenly, his hollow eyes turned black with rage and he flung the bottle forward so that it leapt into the night air and tumbled to its death into the darkness below, swallowed up by the rushing river.

"But you never cared about wh-what I wanted," Draco continued forcefully, his voice grating. "It was always Voldemort. Good bloody r-riddance, I say. The only thing you taught me was how to be scared and cruel."

I felt heartbroken and shocked to the very core by this scene. And so, so very confused. Who was he speaking to?

"And n-now the Dark bloody Lord is gone and you—you are too. You just couldn't l-live without him, could you, you _bastard_?" Draco snarled, teetering dangerously on the ledge.

A gushing, hollow wind swept through the moors and brushed against his trembling body, urging him forward.

"Serves you right, you—you—" Draco shouted and there was so much pain and anger in his drunken voice that it slapped my heart.

In the distance, a figure emerged from the mist, taller than Draco by a few inches. I recognized him immediately as Blaise Zabini, one of Draco's friends from school. He was handsome and clean cut with chiseled Italian features and dark mocha skin. When he saw Draco rocking back and forth on the ledge, Blaise lurched forward. And just in time. Draco inched forward ever so slightly, not realizing it in his stupor, and Blaise snatched his robes before he could tumble to his broken death like his alcohol bottle.

"_Draco!_ What the _hell_ are you doing? Your mum's been worried sick about you! It's four in the damn morning!" Blaise shouted, shaking his friend.

"Get off me, you arse," Draco growled, shoving his friend.

"Are you_ drunk?_" Blaise countered, grabbing him by the collar of his robes fiercely. "You are barking mad? What the hell do you think you are doing out here by yourself in the middle of the night, on a bloody _bridge_? Do you know why this bridge was put up in the first place? Look at that river. Look at how close you had been to—"

"What's it to you?" Draco snapped. "Why are _you_ here?"

"God, you stink." Blaise cringed and his hand fastened to Draco harder. "When was the last time you showered? Are you _drunk?"_

Draco refused to respond, muttering angrily at the Italian.

"Draco, you're my best mate," Blaise pressed. "Look, your mum told me what happened. She asked me to look for you. She told me that you'd run off earlier in the afternoon and hadn't been back since. That you found out your father…"

"Is dead?" Draco spat, laughing. "Yeah, what a welcome home present."

He giggled highly and began to mimic a woman's voice that I'd assumed was his mother's by the way he spoke.

"'Welcome back, Draco, glad you passed your N.E. . Happy birthday, dear! Your probation's been lifted and you can legally use magic again. Oh, and you know how I held that funeral over Easter despite the fact you thought your father was still alive and you thought I'd just given up on finding him? Well, turns out he really is dead, now and I've known for weeks but I decided to keep it from you until the night you returned.'"

Blaise blinked and then frowned hard. "Your mother explained the situation to me, Draco. She didn't want to tell you on your birthday when she received the news. She wanted you to focus on your exams. She did the right thing."

"Shut up about it," Draco snarled, his voice gurgling slightly.

"Listen, you're scaring the shit out of everyone, especially your mum. This has got to stop, now. You realize you could've killed yourself?"

Draco snorted.

"Yeah, wouldn't that have been a treat. It's not like anybody would have missed me anyway," he said and Blaise shoved him, suddenly very angry, down to the cobblestone of the bridge.

I gasped as Draco crashed into the stone floor with a grunt.

"Don't you _dare_ joke about that, you miserable _sod!_" Blaise shouted.

"Sorry," mumbled Draco, but he hardly looked apologetic. "Forgot."

"Oh, yeah, typical Draco," Blaise ground out. "Prancing about all high and mighty, forgetting everyone else's problems because his are always _so_ much more important. You're a spoiled little brat, Draco Malfoy, and sometimes I really _hate_ you. My father took his own life when I was_ five_. I _watched_ him do it. But I guess that small little detail just escaped your bloated egotistical mind when you decided to dance around on a bridge like a bludgeoning idiot."

I felt my heart pumping hard in my chest. Shallowly, I realized I'd misjudged Blaise long ago, as I had with Draco. They had families, lives, expectations, just as she did.

"Shut up," Draco hissed. "Your dad's been dead for years. Mine was taken from our own bloody home almost three months ago today, by people he _trusted_. Turns out they succeeded in offing him, too."

"Well, hate to break it to you, Draco, but that's usually what happens when angry Death Eaters want to blame people for the death of their master," Blaise stated bluntly. "Not to mention your family was the _only_ family to be pardoned and Lucius had a lot of enemies. Few people were happy with the Minister's decision, as you remember. At least the Ministry caught who killed your dad and locked them away. Otherwise, you and your mum could be rotting away in some ditch somewhere, like him."

Blaise paused and then said, "Your dad wouldn't want you acting like this."

It was like a light came on inside Draco and he flew toward Blaise.

"You don't have a clue what my dad would want from me!" Draco hollered, shoving his friend roughly. "He would want me to be like he was. He always wanted me to be just like him. Well, now I am!"

Blaise grabbed Draco roughly as he stumbled and threw him into the rods suspending the bridge.

"You are not your father," Blaise told him slowly and forcefully, looking him straight in the face, both of them panting. "You are Draco Malfoy and you are your own bloody person. You have a whole life ahead of you and a whole future set for grabs. Your father ruined his reputation and good standing so that you could have a shot of being more than him. Don't throw that away just because of your father's mistakes. He loved you more than you could know and all he wanted was for you to be strong and upstanding, something that he could never be. It's why he pushed you so hard. All he did was so that he could keep you and your mother safe. Maybe he wished he could be more like _you_, have you ever thought about that?"

"No," Draco said numbly.

A nervous knot wrapped around my intestines when I realized I'd seen that look on myself just a short time ago when I, too, had discovered my father was dead. But to the Draco in the pensive, he was still so young—as I had been before I had been thrust into the body of a woman in her thirties— and he had no children, no wife, no reason to push forward through the darkness as I had when I found out. In some ways, I was grateful for the strong support system I had and the motivation to keep living.

Suddenly, Draco burst into tears.

My world seemed to capsize as Blaise grabbed Draco and pulled him into a crushing embrace, holding him there as he sobbed, his chest wracking and wheezing. He cried until there was nothing left and I stared in horror at the display. I'd never witnessed Draco show so much emotion before I'd been summoned eleven years into the future, and this was just too much for me to grasp.

"You need to shape up, Draco," Blaise sighed after a long silence, still hanging onto his drunk and depressed friend. "You need to be strong for your mother. You need to be a better man for you father. And you need to be honest with yourself."

"I don't know how to live anymore, Blaise," Draco admitted brokenly and pulled something out of his pocket. "We didn't want to believe it for so long…that we would find him one day…"

He held the long scroll of parchment up to Blaise, like a question in the wind. The handsome Italian stole it from Draco's grasp, letting the black ribbon that secured its pages together to flutter to the cobblestone. Unrolling the rather long scroll, Blaise began to skim the elegant and slanted writing on the parchment.

"What is this?" Blaise murmured.

"My father's last will and testament, securing everything to me—the Malfoy fortune and all its heirlooms, my father's trusts, the deed on the manor and the estate, all of my father's assets—"

Before Hermione had a chance to read it herself, Blaise rolled it back up, shaking his head.

"This is some kind of joke," Blaise muttered darkly. "He hasn't left a single thing to your mother. You can't really be expected to run _everything_."

Draco laughed dryly and rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't know about that because your mother is quite manipulating when it comes to swindling men out of their money and turning it over to her. My father strongly believed that everything be passed to me so I could support my mother should anything happen to him."

"She's perfectly capable of running things herself," Blaise argued.

"My mother agrees with my father, Blaise," Draco said. "Everything's mine to do with as I please. My mother has her private accounts, but they are nothing compared to my father's, so it's up to me to ensure everything is settled and my mother is taken care of."

"But look at this," Blaise protested, gesturing to the scrolls. "_Everything_ was turned over to you, including all of his debts."

Draco swallowed, his chin trembling. "I know."

"There's not enough money in what he's handed over for you to pay that off! More than half of these markets have closed since the investors have been placed in Azkaban, the businesses foreclosed. He's lost all of that money, Draco. Just look at how much he owes people."

"Yeah, he's set on ruining my future even when he's rotting away," Draco mumbled and his words were slow and hard, his tongue thick in his drunken state. "We're poor. We have nothing left. Even if we sold _everything_ it wouldn't make a dent in half of these debts. I went back to school because I couldn't get a job after the Trace was put back on me at my trial because I couldn't use magic, but who's to say that was the only reason why I couldn't get a position? My father burnt a lot of bridges within the Ministry."

"You were pardoned, Draco," Blaise consoled. "That's got to mean_ something_. They can't turn you down just because you were accused of something. I mean, the Minister himself wrote you off. They shouldn't be able to discriminate against you and if they did I'm certain you would be able to address the Magical Law Enforcement or the minister himself!"

Draco shrugged, stumbling away from his friend.

"Draco, you know all you need to do is just ask and—"

"I will _not_ ask you or anyone else for money," Draco interrupted roughly.

"Draco, if it could help—"

"_No!"_

Blaise closed his mouth and shook his head. "Your pride frustrates me."

"I will not take what is not mine as my father did and further complicate our condition. I would owe you and I'm not certain I could ever repay you and I could not risk our friendship over some petty loan."

"Oh, please," Blaise scoffed.

"It happened to my father," Draco snapped. "Steadily, over the years, the more he took the more he lost and he lost more than money."

"Fine. If you won't allow me to help you with your finances, at least let me be a friend and take you out. We need a vacation," Blaise stated.

"What do you mean?" wondered Draco.

"Remember how we made that vow to each other in second year that after we graduated Hogwarts we'd travel the world together?"

"No money," grumbled Draco. "Can't. Gotta find a job."

"What if I told you I could make both of those things happen?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't want your pity, Zabini."

"I'll talk to my department head tomorrow. He values my opinion and I've become quite the valuable asset to him. So, if I drop the word, I'm sure I could spring you an interview. And the best part of it is once you get the job, we can travel all we want—it's our _job_ to see the world."

Draco turned around to stare at him. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course I would, you nutter. So, what do you say?"

"What do you get from all this?"

"I'm just being a friend, Draco. No strings attached, you don't owe me anything. For once, let someone do something nice for you," Blaise insisted.

"Oh, bloody hell. Why not? If you can get me the job, I'll do whatever you want for the rest of your high-fashioned life."

They shook hands and then Blaise slung Draco's arm around his shoulder and they both staggered away into the mist of the moors outside Malfoy Manor, heading for a brighter future.

As the scene morphed, my heart was crying for him. I'd never known that his father had died, and so soon after the war. I remembered something in the paper once about Lucius Malfoy going missing, but I'd soon forgotten about it due to several things in my life that overshadowed anything else.

My thoughts dissipated as I landed in another memory.

I was suddenly in an expansive club, surrounded by dancing couples. The club was obviously V.I.P exclusive and quite expensive. At the table next to me sat Draco Malfoy, looking much healthier and better than he had in the last memory. Clearly, months had progressed. His hair was cut shorter in a fashionable manner and he held his indifferent and debonair grace with him, even as he sat at a marble table, his head resting on his palm as he stared into the crowd.

I followed his gaze, watching Blaise Zabini twirl a lovely young woman with brown curls across the dance floor. I started, my eyes popping out of my head as I recognized the face of the woman being dipped by Blaise. With a start I realized it was Ariana, much younger and much more carefree than the woman I'd met eleven years in the future. She carried a seductive, sultry grace about her and she wore her clothes a little tighter, her hair cascading to her waist in thick ringlets. I couldn't help but notice the dark looks and whispers that followed behind her every direction she went. When the song had ended, Blaise led her to the table where Draco sat and deposited Ariana into the seat next to him.

"_Bonjour,_" she greeted and Draco nodded, smirking at Blaise from over Ariana's shoulder. "I'm Ariana de Jean."

"You must be the woman Blaise hasn't been able to shut up about all night long," Draco said, winking humorously at Blaise, who began to stutter and deny this.

Ariana giggled, glancing at Blaise from under her lashes. "Is that right?"

"I'm afraid you've got him all a flutter," Draco said, extending his hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy, the best friend."

"Uh oh," Ariana chuckled, winking at him. "The best friend is almost as bad as the parents."

"I'm quite overprotective," Draco admitted and nudged Blaise.

"Right, Draco," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "Now you've met. Happy? Ariana, let's dance some more."

"I'm actually a bit tired. Perhaps a drink would be more appropriate?" Ariana suggested, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "I'll just stay and keep Draco company."

Blaise smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Any preference?"

"Whatever you pick," she said easily, waving him off.

"I'm not sure you want to do that," Draco warned.

"I can handle it," Ariana claimed.

They chatted easily with each other about Draco's occupation and how he was enjoying his time in Paris, especially his days off when he could explore the city. Blaise returned, holding a round of premium fire whisky and a glass of fine champagne.

"Thanks, Blake," Ariana said, snatching up a glass of fire whisky, leaving the champagne for Draco, and downing it in one gulp.

Draco and Blaise both stared at her in amazement.

"Er, no problem. And it's Blaise," he corrected, sinking down in his seat.

"I rather like her," Draco confessed and then in a voice so only he and Blaise could hear, added, "Doesn't seem like your typical woman, my friend. I believe she is attempting to play _you._"

"Well, we certainly can't allow my reputation to be trashed as such," Blaise whispered, cocking an eyebrow. "Can we?"

"What are you two birds whispering about?" Ariana interrupted.

They joked together usually making comments at Blaise's expense, until the clock struck ten and Ariana jumped from her seat.

"Oh, no," she exclaimed, glancing at the watch on Draco's wrist. "I promised my friend that I would meet her at the book vendor an hour ago before it closed! Oh, she's going to be so cross with me. I've got to give her a call."

"You'd better go, then," Draco agreed.

"Yes, I should get going. Thanks for the drinks, Blane."

"It's Blaise," the young Italian said again, blinking and frowning. "Er, say, maybe we can walk you off, meet this friend of yours."

Hermione bristled, knowing Blaise was trying to pass Ariana off and try to make a go with her friend.

"No, I'm fine. She gets rather shy around people she doesn't know. I've been teaching her French and I've been showing her around Paris. Oh, she's just so funny, a real bookworm, and so pretty."

"Draco would like her, then," Blaise sighed, obviously giving up on his idea to bypass Ariana for her friend.

"Women are a waste of time," Draco responded.

"Don't be fooled, Ari, he's a total player," Blaise disclosed. "He can have any woman at his disposal."

"Not this girl, he can't," Ariana said firmly. "My friend isn't easily swayed or wooed."

"I think this woman is challenging your romantic prowess, Draco," Blaise said. "What do you say?"

"I say it's late, we've got a meeting in the morning, and I'm going back to the hotel," Draco responded, getting up and stretching. He kissed Ariana lightly on the hand and bowed his head. "Pleasure to meet you, Ariana."

"Likewise," she said and the scene faded again, morphing into another.

Now, I stood in a drawing room. Draco sat by the window, reading. In the opposite corner of the room, Blaise sat hunched over a chess board. Across from him sat a girl with luscious black hair and striking blue eyes, someone I recognized from Hogwarts. She'd been in Ginny's year and was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. She was incredibly beautiful, dressed in classy clothing and pearl earrings.

"Checkmate!" she announced and Blaise groaned.

"You cheated," he said.

"You've said that the last five times she's won, mate," Draco drawled from the window. "Give it up already. She's better than you."

"Oh, now, don't be sour," the beautiful girl laughed, patting Blaise's hand. "You'll get better in time."

"Shut up, Astoria," Blaise sighed, whisking away from her. "Now, Astoria, you don't mind if I steal your little poopsie for the night do you?"

The woman—Astoria—quirked an eyebrow as Blaise tore the book away from Draco and seized him.

"Got a hot date or something?" Astoria wondered.

"Something like that," Blaise whispered to himself so that only Draco could hear, though he pretended not to. "Don't worry, Astoria. I won't let your future husband be defiled by French prostitutes."

At this, Hermione startled. _Future husband? _

Despite herself, Astoria smiled at this.

"Okay, fine. But you two had better be back at a reasonable hour. You and I have that Exploding Snap rematch to finish, Blaise," Astoria said and Blaise winked at her.

"Don't worry, my pudding puff, we shall return."

With that, Blaise wheeled a reluctant Draco from the room.

"Blaise, what are you doing?" he demanded as soon as they were outside.

"I'm taking you out to have some fun," Blaise responded.

"By fun, I hope you don't mean setting me up with another French woman to persuade me to call off my engagement," Draco said as Blaise pulled him into the dimly lit Parisian street. The night was alight with stars and the moon sparkled over the Seine river.

"No, of course not," Blaise promised. "She's British."

"Blaise!" Draco cawed. "I told you I'm serious about this. I'm going to follow through on this—"

"Oh, come on, Draco," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "What you are doing is stupid and confining. Marriage, especially when it is _arranged, _is a waste of money and time. Astoria won't even know. Just because you've sold your soul to clear your debt doesn't mean you can't have a summer of fun before you give your life away to a woman you don't love."

"I realize that you have issues with the concept of marriage," said Draco blandly. "But there's too much at stake here for me to turn back now. I gave my word and I really do like Astoria. I could come to love her in time."

"She's taken with you, Draco," Blaise insisted. "She thinks this is all real, that you _want_ to marry her. If she ever found out—"

"She will _never_ find out, do I make myself clear? It isn't fair to her."

"You're right, it isn't. None of this is," Blaise scoffed. "Draco, she's my friend. I've known her longer than I've known you. Just think about what you're doing, please. It's not too late to call it all off."

"You know I can't do that," Draco sighed. "As much as I'd like to...This isn't just about Astoria or me. Our families came to this conclusion together, they made a deal, and I've got to follow through with it for—"

"Your mum. I got it."

"Anyway, I don't want to have any more of these stupid dates with women I'll never see again. What's the point?"

"The point, my friend, is that you are very lonely and you have been spending far too much time wandering the streets of Paris alone feeling sorry for yourself or cooped up inside reading boring novels when you could be sucking face with beautiful women, having the time of your life."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Those days are far behind me, Blaise," Draco said. "I'm just not into that anymore. I have responsibilities now, I have commitments."

Blaise backpedaled.

"Okay, okay. No smacking face. At least have some fun, for Merlin's sake. Do something you've never done before. There are a lot of things you won't be able to do as soon as you marry Astoria Greengrass, so do them now, before the announcement goes public and you have to live this lie forever."

They'd arrived in front of a pulsing club.

"You're not really making me go in there," Draco said, glancing warily at the club.

"Oh, yes I am," Blaise said, shoving him forward.

I followed them through the club's doors.

"Stop being such a pessimist," Blaise barked over the raging music. "The only way that I can be around this fiery woman and convince her that she's in love with me anymore is if I bring you along to mingle with her best can I say? She is good at throwing curveballs."

"So, you're using me," Draco noted.

"Like you've never done the same thing!" Blaise defended and Draco laughed.

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. I'll do it," Draco agreed. "_But_ I am not interested in anything but polite conversation. Understand?"

"But you will mingle? No matter what," Blaise said.

"Yeah, yeah, no matter what," Draco said, waving it off nonchalantly. "From what Ariana's said, she's not half bad. But you owe me."

"I know," Blaise said, beaming. "Thanks, mate. It means a lot."

They'd reached the bar now and I spotted Ariana swaying on a movable padded stool, sucking on a colorful martini. Next to her was a slim young woman with bouncy honey hair and a light peaches and cream complexion. Her face was hidden, but she was dressed in a dark blue dress, tied around her neck, and was lightly sipping on a small glass of champagne—clearly a prude amongst all the alcoholics. She seemed uncomfortable and out of place.

"There you are!" exclaimed Ariana, twisting out of her seat. "I was beginning to think you were going to stand us up."

"I've brought my partner in crime, just as promised," Blaise said, clapping Draco on the shoulder and forcing him forward.

"Good to see you again," Ariana greeted and swung around excitedly, grabbing the honey haired girl's hand. "I'd like you to meet my friend."

As Draco's eyes swam across the girl's body, they appeared glazed and warm, like liquefied metal. His lips formed a small 'O' and his hands fell limply to his sides. And then, I noticed with incredible shock that the woman in the blue cocktail dress, dressed up to the nines—obviously Ariana's doing—with stylish make-up and hair products, was none other than me.

And there Draco was, eyeing me like some long lost toy from his childhood. Clearly, he didn't realize it was me. And I didn't seem to notice that the man Ariana had set me up with was none other than Draco Malfoy himself. Of course, that was probably because I wasn't looking at him.

"Blaise Zabini?" my memory self asked, stepping forward. She glanced between Ariana and Blaise. "Wait, really? _Ari!_ No. I mean, no offense, Blaise, but Ariana! Couldn't you have found someone I _didn't_ know?"

"You know Blaise?" asked a shocked Ariana.

"Wait, _do_ I know you?" Blaise wondered, stepping closer. "You look kind of familiar."

"Blaise, this is my friend Hermione," Ariana introduced.

"I do know you!" Blaise erupted, jumping up and down. "Granger, right? From school! You hung out with Potter and Weasel!"

"That would be Weasley," my younger self said coolly. "And yes. You are correct on my identity."

I took that moment to glance at Draco, who looked like he'd just swallowed eel.

"Granger?" he mouthed, but nothing came out and my memory self still hadn't noticed him.

"Blimey, Granger, you sure filled out smashingly," Blaise complimented, winking at my memory self. My younger self sent him an eye-roll.

"I'll forever cherish such a flattering statement, Zabini," my younger self replied saucily.

From feet away, Draco Malfoy seemed to be having an aneurysm. He kept backing up, as if willing his feet to speed him away, but he wasn't quick enough. Ariana sweepingly turned my memory self toward the pale blond, who looked scared out of his mind, and stated, "There's your date, Hermione!"

My ocher eyes swept briefly over Draco, not really seeing him, and then, as if I'd been hit by a train, his appearance seemed to manifest itself to me.

"You've got to be joking," my younger self deadpanned and gazed between Blaise and Ariana. "You can't seriously expect me to—Ariana, are you—you can't possibly know that—look, this isn't going to work—he and I—we have a past—Is that really you, Malfoy?"

"Hi, Granger," Draco stammered, scratching his neck.

My younger self seemed floored that he'd greeted me in such a blasé way, with no malice or irritation evident in his voice.

"Blaise, can I speak with you for a moment?" Draco asked politely, but once Blaise was in his grasp, he turned deadly. "_Granger?_ Are you out of your bleeding mind? I can't spend my summer with her! This is some kind of sick joke! How did I let you talk me into this? I'll never trust you ever again. Our friendship is over. I hate you for this."

"I didn't know it was going to be the Gryffindor princess," Blaise defended and shot a look over his shoulder to scope me. "Though, you have to admit, she has filled out."

"That's an understatement," Draco mumbled.

"So you agree!" Blaise said and Draco smacked his palm to his face. "She's bloody gorgeous!"

"You weren't supposed to hear that and I never said that. Don't go getting any ideas. I'm leaving. I didn't agree to this," Draco said darkly.

"You did, though," Blaise reminded him. "You said 'no matter what'. Draco, come on. You can't leave. Ari will only go out with me if you keep Hermione company."

"Hermione? You're joking right? You don't actually expect me and Granger to get along for one night, much less the whole summer, do you?" When Blaise didn't respond except for his usual smirk, Draco growled. "I hate you."

"You love me," Blaise argued. "Which is exactly why you are going to go over there and compliment Granger on how bloody gorgeous she's gotten."

"No. Absolutely not. Don't touch me. No! I'm no horsing around, you sod. Let me go—Blaise, I'm not—_oof!_"

Draco unceremoniously landed in my younger self's arms, his face pressing embarrassingly into my bosom. For one awkward pause, I was sure my younger self would clock him upside the head, but I didn't. Draco pulled away and straightened, swallowing and growing incredibly red. It was odd to see him so flustered.

"I—um—you—" he stuttered and my memory self widened doe eyes at this display. "You look—good. Really good. I mean, you look fine. I guess."

My memory self was silent for quite some time and then swallowed.

"Thanks, I think," I replied steadily, obviously trying hard to keep calm.

"So, it seems we're stuck with each other for the night," Draco said. "Care to be civil for a night and pretend we're enjoying each others company for the benefit of our lovesick friends?"

"Fine," I replied after a moment, grabbing my purse. "But if we're actually going to endure each others presence and be civil, we might as well go somewhere more private."

"Private?" squeaked Draco, becoming unraveled. He seemed to notice his embarrassing slip and instantly he was colored in his manly Draco Malfoy sex-god façade. "I mean, why would I want to go anywhere private with you?"

My younger self's eyes blazed, but with a furtive glance back at Ariana and Blaise, who were staring at the display between the two enemies worriedly, I made up my mind and grabbed Draco's arm.

"Yes, Malfoy. You and me are taking a stroll, where I can breathe fresh, untainted air, take in the sights of the most glorious city in the world, and not have my backside squeezed by drunk men all night long," I responded curtly, dragging him behind me.

I noticed as I followed that Draco swallowed at my younger self's statement, his eyes lowering to the lower half of my body and lingering there for far longer than I would have liked. Cheeky little runt.

"Oh, Merlin, save me," Draco muttered, casting his eyes away from my backside as my memory self forced him out of the smoky bar and into the clear, romantic evening.

The memory faded.

There were a series of new memories, all of which consisted of me, Ariana, Blaise, and Draco spending time together, enjoying famous sights, testing out French words, eating hefty and delicious French meals. I spent the majority of the summer grudgingly attached to Draco's hip. Every time Ariana and Blaise would start kissing and eventually full on making out, Draco and I would escape the heinous display and start talking about our favorite books, foods, places to visit, our views on politics, etc.

This went on and on, swishing past me unimportantly until the memories came to a stand still once more and I was in another scene. Draco and I were walking alongside the Seine and I was laughing at something he'd said.

"You have a beautiful laugh," Draco told me abruptly, avoiding my eyes as I stopped laughing and gazed up at him.

"Why do you always do that?" my memory self asked, frowning.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Flirt with me and hit on me and pretend that you actually think I'm attractive."

"You think I'm pretending?" he said disbelievingly.

"I know you are. You're Draco Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger. You gave me buckteeth in fourth year and would stop in the middle of the hallway just to poke insults at me. And now here you are, when I'd finally thought I'd never see your smirking arrogant face again, walking down the streets of Paris with me every night, enduring all this time with me just so your friend can have a nice summer. Why don't you just pretend to do away with me and we both go our separate ways?"

"Because maybe I enjoy your company, Granger," he said dryly. "Have you ever considered that? That maybe this isn't a joke to me anymore? I no longer feel obligated to be around you, because I know you. I like being around you. Okay? Is that a crime? I'm not pretending when I tell you that you have a beautiful laugh. I can't believe I spent all those years making you cry and frown—your smile is so much better."

Both my former self and my older self were floored, hanging on his every word, breathless.

"I'm sincerely sorry for what I did to you back then," he apologized, sighing. "I don't expect you to forgive me—I certainly don't deserve it. But I really am sorry. I've made my fair share of mistakes—more than I'd ever like to admit—but the fact of the matter is I've gotten better. I'm trying."

"I'm proud of you, Draco," my younger self said abruptly, cutting him off as he rambled.

He paused, at a loss for words, staring hopefully into my eyes.

"Proud?"

For some reason, this word seemed to hang heavily around him.

"Yes, Draco. I'm proud of you. Over the summer you've shown me a different side to you that I always knew was there somewhere. I would never have admitted it back then, but I always hoped one day you and I could get past this horrible prejudice and be on speaking terms. That's why, I suppose, I agreed to stay with you that first night and have civil conversation. I saw something in you that night that gave me a glimmer of hope that you had changed. And now I see you have."

We were silent for quite some time, just staring into the river, unblinking. Subtly, Draco reached over and grasped my hand in his, entwining our fingers.

"Is this okay?" he asked and shockingly, my younger self nodded, my eyes shining in the pale moonlight.

Maybe it was the romantic Paris setting, maybe it was utter insanity, or maybe, just maybe, there truly was something there that made me believe in perusing something with Draco Malfoy. All in all, it was a wonder to behold—two enemies coming together in a silent truce, allowing a window of unforeseen opportunity to arise between them.

Draco and I stood by the river's edge for quite some time, not speaking, just holding hands, rubbing our fingers along the other's soft skin, marking it as our own.

"I wasn't lying when I said you were attractive," Draco said suddenly, breaking the silence. "You thought I was pretending, just being flirtatious, but I was serious. I can't flirt with you without it meaning something, Hermione."

I was shocked when he used my first name.

"So, what does this mean?" I asked him, biting my lip, causing his eyes to zoom in toward my seashell lips.

"It means that in some strange and absurd way that I'm falling for you," Draco admitted and it seemed to pain him by saying this. "And for once I've got no idea how to stop."

"I'm not sure I want to stop," I confessed quietly, daring to look into his eyes.

"This isn't going to be easy," he said as our faces drew closer and closer. "It's going to be really hard. And we're going to have to work at this every second of every day if we want this to work. But I want to do that, I want to try. Because I want you in my life, Hermione. You make me…decent."

"You've always been good, Draco," I protested, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You just needed a push in the right direction."

"How can you have so much faith in me?" he whispered as our faces drew ever closer.

"I've always had faith in you, Draco," I told him. "You've just never given me a reason to prove it. In fact, if we want to completely factual about—"

"Granger, for Merlin's sake, for once in you life, do me a favor," Draco said.

"What?" I asked, silencing myself.

"Shut up," he smirked and pressed his lips to mine, crossing the threshold I had been too afraid to cross by myself, embracing me in his warmth, showering me with hope for a better future.

For one time in my life, as I stared at the scene unfolding before me in the depths of Draco's memories, I had no idea where life was going to take me, no plan, no assurance.

And I was completely okay with it.


	15. To Jeopardize Or Save A Life?

_**Destiny **_

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.

A/N: My WONDERFUL readers, oh, how I love you all. I owe all of you a large apology for the huge delay. I've been swamped in school work, to the point where I feel like I'm literally drowning in it. So, forgive me and don't be afraid—I haven't abandoned the story!

We're past the 300 review marker? Already? I'm so happy, I can't even describe to you right now. I'm glad that all of you are still with me on this adventure. And I must say, some of you are very insightful about what is going to happen. I'm really glad that you enjoyed the last two chapters—I was on a roll! I hope I didn't spoil you too much. Anyway, I'm done with my blabbing. On to Ch. 15!

Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

To Jeopardize Or Save A Life?

* * *

My hands trembled as I came out of the smoky plumes of the pensive. I was wheezing shallowly, my throat constricted, my lips parted as I returned to reality in the confines of Draco's office. Hollow breaths puffed in and out of my shivering chest, struggling to escape. The sun streamed in through the window of the study, creating windowpane patterns across the carpeted floor. Everything was warm and full of normalcy, but my heart spluttered and leapt around inside me as if I'd just confronted Lord Voldemort himself.

I struggled to find my bearings—with little success—as I returned to the master bedroom. As soon as I stood in front of the bed, my knees wobbled, giving out from under me. I caught myself just barely upon the snowy duvet and sunk down onto the bed, placing my head between my knees to chase away the dizzy buzzing bouncing around inside my head. When this did hardly anything to help calm me, I let myself fall back upon the sheets and rested my head on the pillows, my hair fanning out like a halo around me.

"What was that?" I whispered, placing a quaking hand on my punching heart.

Thinking back to everything I had just witnessed, I felt increasingly overwhelmed by it all. Draco's father had been murdered and Draco himself, in a drunken, grief stricken, pained mess, had tried to throw himself off a bridge, angry at the man he didn't want to love but could not help loving.

"He lost his father, too," I spoke to the ceiling above me in a drifty voice, shaking my head at the pure irony of it all. We now had something in common.

What really got to me, though, was the fact that Draco had been in an arranged marriage with a woman—the very same woman he'd just been conversing with moments before on the phone, who he had left the house to visit—named Astoria. He and I had fallen in love with each other while he was engaged to marry another woman—a pureblood no doubt. I couldn't explain the raw clenching in my stomach, the gritting of my teeth, the sounds of nails dragging down a chalkboard echoing in my head, which followed this thought.

But he had picked _me._

Shaking my head, I brought myself up on the bed so that I was sitting cross-legged on the white duvet, staring with a furrowed brow at the wall ahead of me. The whole situation was a strange one, but what startled me the most was the fact that, in some odd way, being with Draco Malfoy made sense.

My complicated thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud ringing noise erupting through the manor.

"Hermione, it's Ariana!" called Pam from downstairs.

I lurched off the cushiony bedspread. I shifted into the hallway and wound my way toward the grand staircase.

"Coming!"

I danced past the large portrait of my family and down the velvety stairs, scoping the area for my dark haired friend.

"Ari?" I ventured.

"In the library," she responded.

I followed her voice and found my way to the library, opening the ajar door. Ariana sat by the window, looking out over the expanse of the backyard as Haden and Jasper continued their game of tag. Their laughter rang out through the summer afternoon, seeping in through the open windows and tickling my ears.

"What are you doing here?" I wondered, coming to sit beside her.

"Ouch," she laughed, turning toward me and holding her bright pink fingernails over her heart in mock hurt. "You've already forgotten that I was supposed to come and have some girl time with you today?"

"I'm quite certain we never agreed on any plans today," I said after a moment of racking my brain.

She grinned and embraced me tightly.

"We didn't; I just thought I'd come surprise you," she said, patting my back. "I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd come say hello."

"What are you doing all the way over here?" I laughed. "It's quite some distance from your house."

"Not if you can apparate," she reminded me with a wink. "My cousin Vivian is getting married soon, as you know, and as her maid of honor, she insists I come to every dress fitting and altering she attends. Today, just my luck, I'm supposed to meet her at the local bakery to decide which cake tastes the best and the local flower shop to decide which floral arrangement would look best as her centerpiece and bouquet."

"Sounds like a headache," I sympathized.

"It is, especially with Vivian," sighed Ariana, shaking her head of curly brown hair. "She can never make up her mind."

I laughed, remembering all the stories she'd managed to tell me during our escapades at work about her cousin.

"So, when exactly is she and John getting marr—"

_Bang!_

I stopped halfway through my sentence upon hearing the door slam and the laughter of my sons through the hallway.

"Mummy? Mummy, where are you?"

Puzzled by the sudden interruption, I turned around from my seat by the window, just in time to see Haden appear in the doorway, followed closely by Jasper. Both boys looked winded and cheerful, their cheeks rosy pink, their thick hair tousled. Haden's glasses were slightly askew and as he came to a stop in front of me, I leaned over to adjust them on his nose.

"Can we go play with Sam and Dillan?" asked little Haden.

"I don't see why not," I replied, giving my sons a smile. "Just as long as you are back—"

"Well, actually, Mum, Sam's mum invited us for dinner tonight, so we were wondering if—"

"Oh, okay," I said, nodding. "Just have Sam's mother take you home afterward or find a way to contact your father or I so that we can come get you."

"We know," the boys chorused and set off out the library.

Ariana smirked beside me.

"What?"

"You've come a long way with those two," she noticed and I smiled.

"Yes, well, they're hard not to love," I said, smiling.

"Ahem," came a voice from the doorway the boys had just disappeared from.

There Pamela stood, a purse slung over her shoulder, a wallet in her hand. She waved at Ariana.

"Sorry that I didn't have time to catch up when you first got here. I had some things to finish up. You haven't been around here in quite a while."

"Been so busy with work and the kids. But you and I need to get together! We should grab a film at the cinema or go to that restaurant in London that you like."

"I would love that," Pamela agreed, smiling. "It's been a while since I went to the city."

"It's a date, then! We'll set something up."

"Perfect," Pamela said and then turned to me. "Hermione, I just came to let you know that I'm going to be out most of the afternoon. I've got to take care of some errands and grab some groceries."

"Are you sure? I don't mind grocery shopping," I said.

"No, no, we all know how much you hate shopping of any sort. I love shopping. Plus, I've got some other things to attend to. I just wanted to let you know," Pamela said.

"Sure thing," I said and waved as Pamela set out the door, leaving Ariana and I behind once more.

We eventually ended up in the kitchen, where we sat on the countertops, dipping strawberries into melted chocolate.

"Mmm," Ariana commented in pleasure, taking a bite from her strawberry. "This tastes like heaven. I haven't had chocolate covered strawberries in ages."

"Pamela and I had a craving for them this morning," I explained.

"I'm surprised they're not all gone yet," Ariana said, dipping another strawberry into the warm bowl of chocolate.

"Why is that?"

"Well, one, you have an unhealthy addiction to chocolate, and two, chocolate covered strawberries are Draco's favorite thing to eat in the entire world," Ariana stated.

"Really?"

"You don't even know. Him and strawberries are one thing, but him and _chocolate covered_ strawberries—well, let's just say if these aren't gone by tonight, it's a miracle."

"Oh, well, he's been in his study most of the morning, so Pam and I were able to make them in secret, I suppose" I laughed.

"Speaking of your husband, where is he?" Ariana wondered.

"He had to run an errand," I replied, and again I felt that unreasonable clenching in my stomach as the name Astoria echoed through my brain.

"Something's bothering you," Ariana observed, nibbling on her strawberry. "Dish, please."

I sighed and then plunged into my story about Draco's pensive. When I was done she simply blinked at me and chewed on her bright pink nail.

"Well, say something," I urged.

"What do you want me to say? I already knew all of that, considering I was there for most of it," Ariana reminded me.

"Well, I don't know, I just—" I began to say and she rolled her eyes, patting my hand.

"You're worried that you obstructed his privacy," she guessed and I nodded. "Well, honey, you need to stop worrying so much. He'll be fine with it. He might even be happy about it."

"Why would he be happy?"

"Because it could help trigger some memories for you," she explained. "Actually, I don't know why he hadn't thought of that before. It's a brilliant idea."

"Yes, it would be, except it didn't trigger a thing," I informed her and she frowned.

"This memory loss thing is really making me sad," Ariana confessed. "I mean, I love being able to tell you stories and seeing your reactions to them like it's the first time you're hearing it, but it's not the same as having you as the woman I've been best friends with for years, you know?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's not something you can control," Ariana said, rubbing my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You're still my best friend. You're just a little behind, that's all."

I hugged her, grateful for her support and cheerful outlook.

"So, enough about me. How are you?"

At this, Ariana sobered and looked away, frowning at the floor.

"I've seen better days," she replied after a while.

"Ron?" I guessed and she nodded.

"He's just been getting more and more distant. I've told him how much I don't like it when he stays out all night with his friends," Ariana explained, frustrated. "I don't like his new friends, or the effect they're having on him. Phoebe has hardly noticed, but Josette is starting to wonder why her daddy always leaves and why he's never home to play anymore."

I draped an arm around Ariana, knowing all too well how she felt.

"He'll come around, Ari," I comforted. "Ron can be stubborn and stupid sometimes, but in the end he'll be alright."

"You're right, as always," she sighed, smiling softly. "I just worry. A woman gets lonely, you know?"

_Oh, don't I,_ I thought. I knew all too well how it felt to be lonely—I'd been lonely a lot lately.

"What's that?" Ariana asked suddenly, jumping off the counter and squinting out the window.

A glowing, ethereal light was whisking through the sky outside so fast, it was hard to see at first. I withdrew my wand, as did Ariana, and then both of us went rigid as the light sped through the glass paneled windows and engulfed the kitchen. I blinked rapidly in surprise. Once my eyes had adjusted, I noticed that the light was indeed discernable. It was a patronus. A patronus in the shape of a stag.

"Harry," both Ariana and I whispered.

Harry's voice immediately began to resonate through the house, echoing hurriedly and demandingly.

"Emergency. I repeat, this is an emergency. Vlaskiv escaped and is now on the loose. Meet at Ministry immediately."

"Oh my God," Ariana gasped.

"What? What is it?" I asked urgently and she grabbed my hand.

"Hurry, we have to get to the Ministry," Ariana pressed and nearly dragged me to the fireplace.

"Wait, I don't understand!" I shouted, tripping over my own feet. "Who is Vlaskiv?"

Ariana shook her head and groaned.

"Really, Hermione, this is the most horrible time to forget things," she said. "Vladimir Vlaskiv is a highly dangerous and very deranged wizard. He's a mass murderer and thief. He was caught years ago and imprisoned in Nurmengard."

"Nurmengard? You mean the wizard prison off the coast of Germany?"

But Ariana wasn't listening to me.

"I always knew this day would come. He was on our Ministry's most wanted list before he disappeared and ended up in Germany," she fretted silently to herself. She turned to me with fear stricken eyes. "He's out of his mind, Hermione. He's part of an organization of offended Voldemort followers, but he comes from a long line of Dark wizards. Voldemort's death demolished his family's standing in many Dark organizations around the world. He believes he's going to be the one to avenge Voldemort and all the fallen organizations that were destroyed after Voldemort's downfall."

"How deranged is he, exactly?" I asked, fearing her answer.

"He once killed an entire village in Egypt single-handedly. And by killing them I mean he blew them, quite literally, into bits."

"Oh, God," I gasped and shook my head, expelling my momentary horror.

I had a duty to do. Get details, plan, secure the problem, solve the problem, get out, and get briefed.

_Calm down, Hermione. Calm._

Taking a deep breath, I finally murmured, "Okay, let's go."

And with a flash of emerald green, Ariana and I were transported to the Ministry. When we arrived inside the Ministry, the entire place was a madhouse of questions and wanted posters. Witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes scurried and shouted out warnings to be on the lookout and protect their families, shoving and pulling.

"Ouch!" cried Ariana as an elderly wizard rammed into us, sending us into the hard brick of the wall.

"Excuse you!" I shouted at him and he turned around, eyes bugging from his sockets.

"It's happening again!" gasped the white-haired wizard, grabbing my blouse, causing one of the buttons to pop off. "They're coming for us all. No one is safe! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will rise again!"

"Shove off," Ariana growled, pushing the old man aside and forcing me through the crowd toward the elevator lifts.

"I don't understand," I said once we'd successfully managed to find a lift. "How is it that everyone knows? Isn't it our job to keep things on the down-low so that people don't have this kind of a reaction and panic?"

"Yes," Ariana told me, shaking her head. "Someone must've let it slip or it got leaked somehow. There's nothing we can do about that now. We still have to do our job, with or without the public's knowledge."

Seconds later, we were on our floor, rushing to the training room. Inside the room with the large chandelier, where I had spent many hours training in, stood a large number of Aurors, all with their wands at the ready, listening attentively to Harry's orders.

"You all know your jobs," Harry was saying. "Now we don't have much time, so make haste. And be safe, above all."

The crowd began to disperse, hurrying out the large double doors to leave the Ministry and do their jobs. Ariana and I hurried over to Harry, who breathed a large sigh of relief when he saw that we had received his distress call and had come to help.

"I wouldn't ask you to help with this considering the circumstances of your memory loss," Harry said to me, "but I know you are capable and trained. I have complete confidence in you. I need you on this mission."

"Of course I'll help, Harry," I told him. "Tell me what I have to do."

"Alright," he said and immediately became a harder version of himself, giving us our orders. "Ariana and Hermione, you'll accompany Biggens and Rogersmith to the town Bibury. We've already sent several other teams there. From our sources, I have reason to believe that Vlaskiv and some of his members are pillaging the area in search of something. It is your mission to find Vlaskiv and bring him in to custody and save all the lives you can. I trust your judgments. If you find yourself in a trying position, send up a distress signal and we'll send reinforcements."

After securing our orders, Ariana and I followed the two men in our team out of the Auror department and through the Ministry. We apparated in pairs, arriving in a small forest next to each other.

"Where do we—?" Ariana started, but was cut off by a loud explosion.

A chorus of laughter soon followed and brilliant green jets of light erupted in the distance in front of us.

"Come on!" shouted the man I assumed to be Rogersmith, his mop of long dark hair flopping in his face as he raced out of the trees.

I raced after him, followed closely by Ariana and Biggens, a short and balding man with wheezy breaths. The small village of Bibury was beautiful—or at least I assumed it would have been beautiful had it not been on fire. Small, wooden cabins squirmed and shrieked as they were ravenously molested by hideous dark flames. Sparks ignited off haylofts, sending barns into a roaring inferno. Meadows full of rich purple flowers and golden stalks of barley surrendered and tangoed with orange and fiery serpent tongues, seeming to shriek in pain as their beauty crashed and burned.

"Look out!" cried Biggens, shoving Ariana to the ground so hard the gravel flew up and pelted her in the face, scraping off the skin on her cheeks.

I screamed murderously as something hot and horrid licked my elbow briefly.

"What the hell was that?" shouted Rogersmith over another loud explosion.

"Fiendfyre," I gasped, recognizing the large cursed fire that raced past to engulf a nearby house in its devilish and fiery mouth.

"Did it get you?" Ariana wondered fleetingly, staring up at my trembling arm.

I didn't dare inspect my injury. It burned and throbbed something fierce, but as I stared around me at the ashes of a falling civilization, I knew I wouldn't let it get in the way of the mission ahead of me.

"No," I responded. "It just burned through my robes."

"This way!" bellowed Rogersmith, interrupting me and sprinting into the blazing town square.

I was sickened immediately by the sight in front of me. Hoards of townsfolk ran for cover as roofs caved in above them and market windows shattered, covering the streets in glass and rubble. A man was swearing in agony as two other men heaved a large brick wall off of his shattered and flattened leg. A woman sobbed, clutching her lifeless baby to her breast, begging God to bring him back to life. Wizards in black cloaks, their faces hidden beneath their hoods, cackled and laughed, slicing the air with their wands.

"Stupefy!" I yelled, stunning a cloaked figure that had been performing the Cruciatus Curse on a five year old boy, who lay unconscious in the street.

I thought of my own son, Haden, and suddenly I was gripped with an uncontrollable urge to rip the very flesh from the bastard in front of me until I saw bone.

"We have to do something," I shouted, enveloping the helpless child in my arms and checking his pulse. "We can't just leave him here."

I knew my orders: Keep moving, eliminate the threat, secure the town. They would send in medi-wizards after it was safe to do so, but I couldn't imagine leaving the boy.

"Herm, we've got to go," Ariana responded roughly, her throat thick with smoke and emotion. "We can't stay here. There are others who need our help."

I gripped the boy tightly, smoothing back his sand colored hair, trying to imagine what color his eyes were. Something gnawed deep inside of me and I knew I couldn't leave him on the street. Some internal part of me needed ensure his safety. If it had been Haden, I would have wanted someone to help him if I couldn't. I carried him to a nearby loft and placed him in the hay before placing a protection spell over the small barn so that it wouldn't catch fire.

"He's fine," Ariana insisted. "We've wasted too much time already. I'll send up a flare so that the medi-wizards know he'll need their attention."

I nodded, watching as she threw up a green flare, the sign of an injured person. She yanked me forward and my elbow hissed in protest.

"Augmenti!" I railed, whipping my wand at nearby haylofts and shops as I whisked past.

"It looks like the culprits are headed in that direction," Ariana gasped, out of breath as she ran to catch me, pointing ahead. "I'm going to stay behind and try and put out the fires and help the injured until the medi-wizards get here."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly, giving her arm a swift squeeze. "Be safe, do you hear me? If you find Vlaskiv send up a red flare and keep hidden until you have back up. If he finds you, do your best to disarm him."

She nodded and we parted ways, breaking off in opposite directions. By then, I had lost Biggens and Rogersmith. Now alone, I sprinted ahead to find them and deal with the mass of explosions I could hear in the distance. What I hadn't been expecting, however, was that the danger was still in my range.

_Bang!_

The deafening explosion roared and caused everything around me to suddenly become very still and silent. My vision buzzed and my ears seemed to bleed as I spiraled sideways into a wooden beam. It moaned and gave way, crumbling over me. In a flash, I had rolled out of the caving tavern's way and covered my head with my scratched hands.

For a crippling moment, I fell into stunned paralysis. Why would I _ever_ voluntarily put myself back into this environment? It was like watching the Quidditch World Cup all over again, or worse, Hogwarts. What had happened to push me to become an Auror?

Staggering to unstable feet, I whipped toward the alleyway the explosion had come from. It struck me as odd that, while all the cloaked figures were miles ahead of me, wreaking havoc on the rest of the town, this explosion happened here. I stepped forward to investigate, propelling myself quickly into the dark alley.

Before I could assess the situation, I felt hands snake around my neck and ropes burn over my wrists as my head cracked against the brick of the alley wall.

"We've got another one!" shouted an unfamiliar male voice close by my ear.

"Bring her forward," replied a sibilant, raspy voice.

The man did as he was instructed and pushed me forward into the depths of the alleyway. It was dark and smoky in the alley and my vision was still blurred from the explosion and debris, but I could sense the man holding me and another presence circling me.

"Well, well, well," the voice hissed. "If it isn't Potter's little girlfriend."

I jerked against my bonds, thankful that the individual who had bound me had not taken my wand.

"Oh, yes, I recognize you, my pretty," the man chuckled darkly. "How could I forget this face?" He clutched my jaw with calloused, dirty fingers. "When it belongs to the girl who helped in murdering the greatest wizard of all time?"

Tears stung my eyes as Vlaskiv backhanded me, splitting my lip.

"Oh, how I wish I could sever every artery in your body this very second and make you scream. How I wish I could drain every pitiful drop of infected, diseased and muddy blood from your veins," Vlaskiv whispered savagely in my ear. "But, alas, I cannot. I have other, more important and urgent matters which need my catering."

"Master, what shall we do with her?" asked the crone holding me.

"Save her for later," Valskiv commanded. "I'll kill her next, when I'm done with the boy."

_Boy? What boy?_ I thought frantically. Was there someone else in the alleyway? Someone that needed my help?

"Bring her forward," instructed Vlaskiv. "I wish her to watch."

As instructed, the servant forced me forward, past the smoke, to the far end of the alley. Ahead, I saw Vlaskiv, kneeling beside a young man, only a few years older than Pamela from what it looked like. He was pale and bruised with dark brown hair and a budding stubble on his cheeks and chin. His clothes were worn and his shoes broken in, as if he'd been on his own and in poor living for quite some time. He was paralyzed by Vlaskiv's spell and the only things that were able to move were his dark blue eyes, which found mine and widened considerably, as if he recognized me. I felt it all over my body when I looked into those eyes. I knew this man.

"Shall I entertain you, Mudblood?" asked Vlaskiv pleasantly, shoving his wand hard into the man's jugular. "You see, this man is the reason I had to go into hiding. He is the reason for all of this. And I must kill him. You understand, don't you, Mudblood?"

"No. Don't—" I started hoarsely, but Vlaskiv only shoved the wand deeper into the man's jugular.

I lurched forward but Valskiv's guard held me rooted.

"_Crucio!_"

The man's screams and wails of agony tore apart the alleyway, fiercely scratching the skins of my heart. I wanted to scream with him, but found I had no voice. Tears crawled down my face.

_Do something_, a voice in my head berated.

Without a moment's hesitation, I threw back my head with as much force as I could, smacking it against the nose of the man binding me. He howled in pain and I waved my wand, removing my bindings. I flourished my wand, crying a swift, "_Stupefy!_" before darting toward Vlaskiv. Before he could even register what I was doing, the unwashed, dark-eyed, deranged wizard that had killed so many people, was sent flailing backward as I crashed into him.

"_Diffindo!_" I shouted, pointing my wand at the paralyzed man's bindings. The ropes sliced in half.

"Why you little bint," growled Vlaskiv, his dark eyes flashing.

I gripped and tore at his greasy long dark hair as he threw me toward the wall. I fumbled but stood my ground, ducking a blow from his fist. His punch connected with the brick wall instead and he hollered in pain. It gave me enough time to disarm him and stun him.

When I was certain that Vlaskiv was bound and unconscious, I sent a flare into the air, watching as the red sparks exploded like fireworks above the alley, illuminating the young man sprawled on the ground in a reddish hue. As I knelt beside him to remove him from his paralysis, his eyes connected with mine once more and I gasped. His face, now that I was seeing him up close, was indeed familiar. Of course, the last time I had seen him had been after the Battle of Hogwarts where his older brother had been killed. He hadn't been more than fifteen or sixteen when it had happened.

"Dennis?" I whispered in awe.

"No offense, Hermione," Dennis grumbled, latching onto my arm as I hoisted him to his feet, "but do you mind if we save the reunion for later so that we can get the hell out of here before that bloke decides he wants to do away with me again?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, shaking my head and getting back on track. "Here, wrap your arm around me."

He did as I instructed and, breathing a deep sigh to clear my head, I apparated the both of us to a nearby meadow on the border of the town.

"Why'd you take us here?" he demanded, sounding agitated.

"I'm leaving behind a false trail," I explained calmly. "Just in case Vlaskiv has recruited trackers that might be tailing us."

He seemed to agree with my idea and finally come to terms that I was someone he could trust fully because he shut his mouth and gritted his teeth. Again, I apparated, and we landed just outside St. Mungos.

"You're barking!" he snapped. "That's one of the first places Vlaskiv will look for me!"

"Will you calm down?" I quipped. "You're seriously injured, yes, but I'm not taking you inside St. Mungos."

"You aren't?"

"No, I'm not," I replied.

"It's another false trail?" he guessed and I nodded, apparating again.

This time, we landed just down the street from my house. Ensuring the wards were intact, I hoisted him inside the doorway. The familiar scent of spearmint and French vanilla enveloped my senses, and the quiet of my home was peaceful and relaxing. With a grunt, I helped Dennis onto the couch and began to cast protection spells around the house.

"I'm home!" called Pamela from the entryway and I sprinted toward her.

"Lock the door and help me secure the house," I commanded and Pamela furrowed her brow, setting the grocery bags down.

"What?"

"Pamela, do as I say!" I shouted and she whipped out her wand.

"The house is already fully secured," Pamela informed me, gawking at my rushed movements. "What _happened_ to you?"

"I know it is, but I need to be certain there aren't any breaks," I told her. "We need to place extra wards—"

"Why? What's—?"

Pamela was cut off by the sound of a large crash from inside the living room. Both Pamela and I hurried into the large room and I gasped at the sight in front of me. Dennis Creevy lay mangled on the floor, obviously having slid off. His eyes were rolled back to the back of his head and he was having a horrible seizure, twitching and flinging about, his bruised hands smacking against the coffee table. His blood, which seeped from the deep gashes in his chest, flowered around him like a river, staining the rug underneath the coffee table.

"Dear God!" Pamela exclaimed, rushing to the young man's side. "Hermione, go into the kitchen and grab a rag!"

I did as she asked and threw the rag at her. She forced Dennis's jaw open and slid the fabric between his teeth to prevent him from biting off his tongue.

"What's happening to him?" I asked, horrified.

"He seems to be sufferin' from extreme shock, internal bleeding, and ACS," Pamela said.

"ACS?" I questioned.

"After Curse Syndrome," she replied. "It's an oftentimes fatal response to victims of the Cruciatus Curse. It needs to be treated immediately. We need to take him to St. Mungo's."

"We can't do that," I stated.

"Hermione, he'll die," Pamela insisted.

"I can't risk his cover. He has to stay here until we can find a safer place for him to go."

"It's that bad?" Pamela wondered, biting her lip.

"You know I can't answer anything," I sighed. "Can you help him?"

"I can help him, but I'm gonna need to take him upstairs."

"You can use the second guest room," I offered and Pamela nodded.

"I know where it is," she said tightly and levitated Dennis. "I'm gonna need a large bowl of water, towels, and my potion kit."

"Okay," I agreed. "Where's the potion kit?"

"It's in the cupboard on the far right on the top shelf in the kitchen," Pamela called as she raced upstairs, levitating Dennis's writhing body.

Moments later I joined Pamela upstairs in the guest room that Draco wasn't currently occupying and set down her supplies on the nightstand. Dennis lay pale and shaking on the bed. Pamela had managed to calm his seizure to mild tremors, but he was now unconscious and deathly pale.

"He's fadin' slowly," Pamela whispered. "I'm goin' to need to keep an eye on him for a while."

"What's going to happen to him?" I asked, worrying my bottom lip. I hissed at this, only then realizing my lip was still split down the middle from when Vlaskiv had backhanded me.

"Well, worst result is that his heart will give out and he will go into cardiac arrest and won't make it," Pamela said. "I'm hopin', however, that it won't result to that. Hopefully it won't since we're gettin' to him so fast, but you can never be too certain in these cases. In most cases, they slip into a coma for a few hours, but they resurface."

I nodded.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" I asked, feeling helpless.

"No, I just need some time with him. He'll be fine, don't worry," Pamela stated. "What on earth happened to you two anyway? And who is he?"

"His name is Dennis Creevy," I explained. "I know him from school. There was an emergency at work and well—I can't go into more detail until I'm briefed, you understand."

She simply nodded.

"I suggest you go get cleaned up and try and relax. Take some soothin' potion," Pamela said, pointing to a tiny blue bottle seated on the corner of her supply kit. "It's already batched and everythin'. Just drink it and try and relax. It should prevent you from goin' into shock and it will dull your—Good Lord! Hermione!"

"What?" I shouted, alarmed.

"Your arm!" she shrieked. "What happened?"

"Oh, I was hit—"

"Fiendfyre," she assessed as she lightly swabbed my arm. "Hermione, this is bad. You've been hit with cursed fire."

"I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. It only grazed me," I told her, but I flinched as she prodded my injury.

"You don't feel any pain?" she asked.

"It only grazed me; I'm fine."

I was high on adrenaline anyway.

"Well, I want you to take this antidote anyway, just in case," she said, handing me another bottle. "Don't argue with me, Hermione. This is serious and I'm not takin' any chances with you. Take it now. Go on."

I did as she told me to and downed both the potions. Pamela visibly relaxed and sighed.

"Okay," she breathed, calming herself. "Everything is okay. No need to pan—"

"_HERMIONE JEAN MALFOY!_"

"What in the blazin' hell?" Pamela exclaimed.

I darted from the room and tore down the stairs. In the living room stood a very red-faced Harry Potter, the vein in his forehead looking as if it were about ready to burst. Ron and Ariana stood near the fireplace, both scraped up and keeping their distance.

"Harry, what in Merlin's—?"

"What the hell were you thinking, bringing someone with you here?" he shouted.

"How'd you know—?"

"I'm the damn Head Auror! It's my job to know!" he snarled. "You can't just bring a prime suspect to your bloody house! Are you out of your mind? What if you'd been followed? Tracked? You are aware that Vlaskiv has high ranked trackers working for him, don't you?"

"Yes, I am aware of this, Harry," I said, agitated by his attitude.

"So what you are telling me is that you deliberately put yours and your families' lives at risk," he said hotly and I gasped, flaring.

"Is that what you think I did?"

"It seems to be that way to me! Did you even bother going to headquarters? Did you even consider getting briefed?"

"Now just hang on a minute, Harry," Ariana started.

"—breaking protocol," Harry continued.

"Harry, mate," Ron said.

"—innocent lives at risk, danger to society—"

"Harry James Potter!" I screeched, my voice shooting up five octaves. "You shut your mouth right now."

He did. He stared at me angrily, his mouth open wide, ready to spew more insults in his rage.

"I brought your so called 'suspect' here because I knew they would follow me," I hissed. "I left a false trail and then another one. I decided to take him here instead of leaving him at St. Mungo's because one, he needs to be questioned, and two, they would track him down and break into St. Mungo's, hurt innocent people and patients to get to him, and kidnap him. I took him to my place because Pam would be here and he was seriously injured. Pamela is better than any Healer at St. Mungo's. Plus, my home is heavily warded and I figured you could investigate him here."

"And your children?" he reminded me. "Did you even consider the risk you were putting them and Draco in?"

"Pamela was out shopping," I hollered, unable to fathom how rude and horrible he was being. He opened his mouth to argue but I held fast. "No, Harry! I am speaking now! My children are spending the day with their friends and Draco left for the day on an important errand. How dare you think that I would jeopardize my husband and my children's safety! How dare you!"

"I told you," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Hermione…I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I don't know what I was—"

"Don't," I said, shaking in my anger. "I'm in no capacity to speak civilly with you right now."

"You need to be briefed," he reminded me.

"Ronald can do that, seeing as how he is your second in command," I told him.

"Alright, but I need to see the suspect," Harry said.

"That suspect has a name Harry," I informed him tartly. "And his name is Dennis Creevy. You remember him? Yeah, he was being tortured by Vlaskiv, who almost killed me himself. I was able to stop Vlaskiv before he could kill Dennis. He was badly injured and may die. If he doesn't, I'll be sure to let you see him and interrogate him, but until then, we're trying to save his life. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be briefed now."

Harry silently bowed his head, realizing I was indeed very angry with him and he shouldn't say anymore to me.

"Ronald," I snapped and Ron followed me into the kitchen where he proceeded to brief me on the events of my mission.

Afterward, he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Don't be too cross with him, Hermione," he said. "He was just extremely scared for your safety and the safety of your family. You know how he gets when he gets too wrapped up in his work."

"I'm already over it," I confessed. "Did they capture Valskiv?"

"Yes, thanks to your flare," Ron said. "He's been taken into custody and is awaiting trial and conviction in Azkaban. If Dennis survives and wakes up—and after he's been briefed, of course—he'll need to testify against him."

"I'm positive he will," I assured him.

He briefed me and I felt myself coming down from the adrenaline rush. He smelled like freshly baked bread and cinnamon, just as I remembered.

"Alright, well, I think Ari and I will be heading home now," Ron said once he was finished. "Let us know if you need anything. And Harry will probably be checking up every now and again to see if Dennis has come to, yet. So, just bear that in mind."

"I will, thanks," I said and he squeezed my hand.

"See you around, 'Mione."

And he disappeared around the corner, leaving me to my thoughts in the kitchen. Sighing, I hurried upstairs to shower and change into some cotton pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. After checking up on Dennis and Pamela, I descended the stairs and started on dinner, deciding to keep it simple by cooking spaghetti.

When the fireplace chimed, alerting me that Draco had arrived home, I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been gone for the majority of the day and I was surprisingly glad to see him home.

"Hermione?" he called.

"In the kitchen," I responded lightly.

"Are you okay?" he demanded once he crossed the corner.

"Yes, why?" I asked. Harry couldn't possibly have told him the emergency so soon.

"There's a massive blood stain on the carpet," he told me and I groaned. Right. I'd forgotten about that. "What happened?"

"It's rather a long story," I sighed, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to me. "While you were gone—and don't worry, the boys are at Sam and Dillan's and Pamela had gone out shopping but she's home now—there was an emergency."

"Emergency?" he questioned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Vladimir Vlaskiv escaped Nurmengard Prison and was recently sighted in a town here in England."

"Sweet Salazar," Draco said, gripping my hand. "Tell me they didn't send you to track him down."

I nodded and he growled.

"Relax, I'm fine," I comforted. "I managed to disarm him before he could do any damage to me, but I did get side-swapped by Fiendfyre, so Pamela's making me take some medicine for that. Just a few scrapes and a busted lip. It's okay, though. It'll heal fast. And Vlaskiv is in custody now."

"Wait, wait, hang on," he interrupted, his quicksilver eyes nearly bugging out of his head at my words. "Are you telling me that you went head-on with Vlaskiv?"

I internally groaned.

"Yes, I did, but I'm fine—"

He seemed to be suffering an aneurism. His face, which was normally so pale and pearly, was now turning a gradual shade of tomato.

"Draco?"

"You could have died! Do you realize this?" he erupted.

"I didn't!"

"But you could've! Think about the boys! About me! Hermione, what if I lost you? I never even got to say goodbye to you properly today!" he railed.

"Draco," I said, stopping him. "I'm fine. My job is always going to be dangerous. You know this. That's what I signed up for—to fight the bad guys, right?"

He sighed heavily. "Damn it, I know this. It doesn't make it any easier on me."

"I'm sorry," I told him sincerely. "I should have let you know."

"I'm sorry for blowing up," he apologized. "I was just scared."

"Draco Malfoy? Scared?" I laughed. The idea seemed absurd.

"I'm a Slytherin, Hermione. I'm not a courageous, lay my life on the line for the greater good Gryffindor type of bloke."

"You don't have to be a Gryffindor to be courageous, Draco," I told him. "As I've witnessed from you, you've managed to overcome your own battles. You're brave in a way you don't understand. I can see that."

In that moment, a look I had never seen before in his eyes crossed his features and his eyes glimmered in the most unusual way. I was only aware, then, that I was still holding his hand. Clearing my throat, I gently pulled away from him.

"Mummy?"

I startled at Haden's voice from the foyer and jumped away from Draco.

"In the kitchen, baby," I called.

When Haden entered the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around me tightly.

"Did you have a good time?" I asked him and he nodded exuberantly.

"Yes. Dinner was yummy," Haden replied.

"Hey, Dad," Jasper said, coming into the kitchen and hugging Draco.

"Hey, champ," Draco responded and Haden yawned, leaving me to cuddle up to his father.

"How about you two brush your teeth and get in your pajamas?" I suggested, glancing at the clock.

"Okay," the boys mumbled in unison, heading up the stairs.

"I'll set you up a plate," I told Draco, gesturing to the spaghetti.

"Oh, it's okay," he said. "I already ate."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Astoria made dinner," Draco said. "I probably should have called to let you know, but I lost track of time."

My eyes narrowed.

"Did she? Hm."

And I turned around and promptly threw his dish in the sink.

"Well, then."

"Are you okay?" he asked me and I waved him off.

"Just fine," I replied coolly.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go put the boys to bed," Draco said and I nodded.

Sighing several minutes later, I decided to go upstairs and tell my sons goodnight as well. I traipsied up the stairs and into their room, where Draco was kissing them goodnight.

"Mummy," Haden mumbled sleepily as I came to kiss him and then Jasper. "Mummy, don't leave. Daddy has to give you goodnight kisses too."

"Oh—um—I don't think—" I stuttered.

But Haden pouted and folded his little arms, deciding for the pair of us. With an amused chuckle, Draco slowly edged toward me.

"The boss has commanded," he whispered and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me gently to his body.

My breath caught in my chest, leaving me feeling winded and dizzy when his arms finally left me seconds later. After saying our final goodnights to the boys, Draco closed the door and led us out into the hallway.

"Well, goodnight," I said uncertainly.

Normally, I would have just walked away and gone to bed, but he didn't reply. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot, frozen.

"Draco? Are you okay?"

He didn't reply. With slow steps he moved toward me until, once again, he had me encircled in his strong arms. This time, the embrace lasted much longer, to the point where I began to wonder if he'd ever let me go.

"Draco?" I whispered.

With a heavy sigh, he broke free, pulling away slowly, agonizingly slow.

"I'm so glad you're safe..." he whispered finally, and with glimmering eyes, he turned away and left me in the dimly lit hallway, alone and confused.


	16. You Just Know

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter series.

A/N: I just wanted to thank you all again for your amazing reviews. They keep me going with this fanfiction, I hope you know that. If it hadn't been for all of you, I probably would've given up hope of ever coming CLOSE to finishing this a LONG time ago. So, thank you.

Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

You Just Know

"How is he?"

Pamela's claret hair danced as she spun around at my entrance. When she noticed it had been me who had spoken, she shook her head and frowned down at the young man in the bed. Dennis remained still as stone, wrapped up in gauze and bandages, a thin cream sheet wrapped securely around his waist. A green and red checkered quilt stretched out over his legs and feet, giving him an extra layer of warmth, just in case he broke his fever, but from the beads of moisture decorating his furrowed brow, I guessed he wasn't having too much trouble with staying warm.

"His fever hasn't broken," Pamela replied, brushing damp locks of wavy brown hair from his flushed face.

"I bought you some more," I told her, handing over two large bottles of bright orange potion. "I was in the city this morning visiting Ginny, so I decided I'd stock up. It seemed you were getting a little low."

Pamela graciously took the potion from my hands and immediately began mixing together a concoction, which she began to carefully insert into the tubes Dennis was connected to.

"He's doin' better with his wounds—none have become infected, yet, thank God—but he still hasn't come to from his coma," Pamela stated.

"It's been two weeks, Pam," I whispered. "I'm really worried. Is there anything we can do?"

"It's just a matter of keepin' him clean and healthy and safe," Pamela insisted. "He's been reactin' more with me lately."

"He's moved?" I asked, taking the empty armchair next to Dennis's bed. Pamela glanced at me briefly from her seat on the edge of his bed and nodded.

"Yes, he has," she told me.

"Well, that's wonderful!"

"He likes it when I sing to him at night," Pamela confided, smiling softly down at the comatose man. "His toes start twitchin' and occasionally his hands will move. When I sing "I'm A Survivor" by Reba McEntire, he even smiles. My mama used to sing Reba songs to me day in and day out. She's a source of comfort for me, so I thought—"

"It may be a source of comfort for him," I finished, watching as she picked up his large hand in hers and began squeezing it.

"He likes it when I read to him, too," Pamela said and then she sighed, turning to look at me with watery eyes.

"Are you okay, Pammy?" I wondered, grabbing her free hand.

She frowned, then laughed, and shrugged, sniffling.

"I don't understand what I'm feelin'," she whispered, gazing back down at Dennis. "I just want him to get better. I know this is gonna sound so absurd, but I feel like I know him, Hermione. I feel like I've been needin' him in my life—like he's the puzzle that's been missin' for so long. I can't explain it, but I feel like this was supposed to happen, that he's supposed to have shown up in my life."

She flushed when I didn't jump to say anything. The truth was, I had been noticing a shift in Pamela over the past two weeks, so this new piece of information didn't shock me as much as it probably should. I knew Pamela was attached to Dennis, and though it had only been two weeks, she had somehow started feeling for him.

"I'm not the kind of girl who beats around the bush about this type of stuff, you know," she told me. "I feel somethin' so strongly for him, it actually kind of scares me. It's somethin' I've never experienced with any other man, Hermione."

She sighed, looking down at Dennis with soft, caring eyes. Again, she smiled.

"I think he might be the one I was meant for."

At this, I started.

"Pammy, you hardly know this man!" I exclaimed. "How can you tell in such a short amount of time? It's crazy."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"You just know, Hermione," she told me, her eyes twinkling with tears. "It's not something that's _defined_ or explained in your books. That's probably why it's so hard for you to wrap your head around. You just _feel_ it. And when you feel it, it's like nothing else matters but them at that very moment. And you just know you can be happy with them. You just know you were destined to be together."

"I don't believe in destiny," I proclaimed.

"Well, maybe you should," Pamela countered.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that? It makes no sense. Your heart doesn't rule over anything. There's always logic."

"You may think that, but you'll change your mind."

"How can you be so sure, Pamela?" I challenged.

"Because," she flared, unreasonably angry, "you were the one who told me all this in the _first place_! I know you've lost your memory and you feel like you're still eleven years in the past, but take a look around you, at all you have. A family like yours doesn't just spring up over night out of _logic. _The love you've been feeling continuously grow for your children over these last few weeks isn't about _logic_. Nothing makes _sense_ about you falling in love with your worst enemy fresh out of school, yet you did. Sometimes, Hermione, love doesn't make sense, but you just know it's right."

I stared at her, open mouthed, for quite some time. I'd never heard Pamela get so emotional and defensive about anything. It became very clear to me in that moment that she must truly care for Dennis more than I thought. And I must have sounded like such a horrid woman, telling her she wasn't thinking straight and it wasn't logical.

"Pam, I'm sorry," I apologized, grabbing her hand.

At first she resisted my touch, but then she squeezed my hand.

"I don't blame you for saying the things you did and thinking that way," Pamela said. "I once thought the same way, but you were the one who convinced me otherwise. And now I know what you were talking about. Now I know it was true."

We were quiet for some time after that, Pamela whispering to Dennis about her hopes and dreams, her wishes of him getting better, and me sitting beside the window, watching the sun play hide and seek behind the puffs of cottony clouds.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" I wondered.

"He—He just—I swear he just said my name!" Pamela gasped.

I sprang up from my seat near the window and darted over to the bed, kneeling beside it.

"Pa—e—a," Dennis moaned.

"Good Lord!" Pamela exclaimed, hitting my arm exuberantly. "Did you hear it? Tell me you heard that!"

"I heard it!"

"Pam—la," he repeated, clearer this time.

"I'm here, Dennis. I'm here," Pamela coaxed, caressing his face. "It's okay. You're safe."

He was silent for the next ten minutes and Pamela and I never took our eyes away from him during that span of time, waiting with bated breath as he struggled to come back to consciousness.

"Pamela?"

And then there was blue. Dennis's eyes had opened.

* * *

"Where is he?"

I exhaled deeply as Harry stepped from within the vast fireplace and brushed off his robes. The wrinkles on his forehead and bloodshot green eyes alerted me almost instantly of his emotional state and temperament. In response to his sudden bursting into my home unannounced, I slowly stood up.

"Dennis is upstairs recovering," I responded lightly and as Harry began to cross the living room, I stepped pointedly in front of him. "Perhaps, instead of just barging upstairs like a harassed madman, you and I could go upstairs together where you can question Dennis _politely_."

Harry tightened his strong jaw and nodded sharply, allowing me to lead him up the stairs and through the many winding hallways which led to the guest room. Inside the small peach walled room, Dennis was resting, propped up in a sitting position on the queen sized bed, his lower body still enveloped under a mass of quilts. Pamela sat beside him with her fingers entwined with his, her back to the door. It was Dennis who first noticed Harry upon our entrance.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter," Dennis greeted hoarsely.

"Dennis," acknowledged Harry, gripping his hand in a handshake.

"I would say it's good to see you again, but I'll save that until after you've interrogated me," Dennis laughed.

Harry smirked only slightly and it was clear that he couldn't be all too upset with a Creevy, no matter how hard he tried.

"I'll leave you be, then," Pamela said reluctantly, rising from her place by Dennis.

"Thank you, Pamela," I whispered, giving her hand a squeeze as she passed me. "We'll be as fast as we can."

She left with a small smile and closed the door behind her, leaving Harry and I in the room. Lightly, I took a seat in the armchair by the casement window, my fingers tightening around the gauzy material of the cream curtains. I picked at a loose thread as Harry began his investigation, asking Dennis the mandatory questions. When finally Harry had made sure that Dennis was indeed Dennis Creevy and not an impostor, he blew in with the hard questions.

"What were you doing in Bibury?" Harry asked.

"I was tracking," Dennis replied sincerely.

"Tracking, you say?" repeated Harry. "Tracking what, exactly?"

"I was tracking Dark Marked," answered Dennis and when Harry made no move to acknowledge this, he added, "I've been helping the Ministry track down the Dark Marked for years now."

At this, Harry jumped, as if someone had poked him with a hot wire.

"You? _You're_ the anonymous tracker who's been leading us to all the Dark Marked?"

Dennis simply nodded.

"Excuse me?" I interrupted timidly. Both Harry and Dennis turned to me. "What exactly are the Dark Marked?"

Dennis snorted, giving me an incredulous look. "You're kidding, right?"

Harry sighed, shaking his head.

"No, she's not kidding," Harry said quietly. "She lost her memory about a month or so ago. She can't remember the past eleven years of her life, roughly."

"So, she has no idea who Vlaskiv even is?" Dennis asked and Harry shook his head. "That's ludicrous! So, you're telling me that you sent her on a mission to face an enemy she has no knowledge of? That's absurd! She could have died! Vlaskiv is highly deranged and incredibly dangerous—"

"_Don't_ tell me that I did wrong by sending one of my best agents on the job," Harry said hotly. "I would never have sent her if she wasn't fully capable and I didn't have complete faith in her abilities. She knows what her job entails, Dennis. And unlike you, she has proper training. She's not hiding in the shadows, seeking refuge in barns, tracking the Dark Marked for pure revenge."

"It's not like I'm _killing _them," Dennis argued.

"No, you aren't," Harry said. "You're just making us do the job for you."

"I don't seek revenge as they do," Dennis snarled. "I protect. I'm sorry that I don't wish to be in the spotlight when I do so like all of you Aurors."

There was a stony silence. I stared between the two of them, unsure of what to do. But my confusion was burning a whole in my brain and I found myself ripping apart the bottom of the curtain in my need to know.

"Dennis, Harry is right. I did know what I was getting myself into," I assured him. "No, I did not have a clue who Vlaskiv was until about thirty minutes before I left on my mission, but what I was told was enough for me. I knew he was dangerous and had killed many people and was about to do so again, and I wouldn't cause innocent individuals pain and suffering because I wouldn't do my job based on my lack of knowledge. I have a duty to the people and if I have to lay down my life in the process of saving and protecting them, I will."

Dennis remained silent, not sure of what to say.

"I will ask the two of you again," I continued. "Who or what are the Dark Marked?"

"They are a Dark tribe," Dennis explained bitterly. "They thrive on chaos and turmoil. Most of them were once Death Eaters or have wished to be. Their main ambition is to plunder, kill, and desecrate as many goodly people as they can. They wish to avenge Voldemort and somehow, work to bring him back to life."

"But that's ridiculous," I objected. "No one can be resurrected. It's impossible. Harry, Ron, and I destroyed all of the horcruxes. Voldemort can _never_ come back."

"That doesn't stop them from sacrificing Muggles to their ranks," Dennis told me, eyes growing as hard as metal.

I shivered at the thought.

"So, you've been helping the Ministry track them down," I said. "And were you tracking Vlaskiv as well?"

"Vlaskiv is their leader," Dennis said. "So, yes, I was tracking him. Of course, he's not easy to follow. But I had been tracking several Dark Marked for days and I happened upon their conversation one night when a pair of them were out of their minds sloshed. They were telling me how the Dark Marked had broken him out of prison and were planning on smuggling Vlaskiv into Bibury—where he was born; this is probably why he constructed so much damage upon the village. Anyway, the monster's deranged—I guess that's why his followers think of him as the next best thing to Voldemort. Except Voldemort never would have been stupid enough to get caught easily."

I had to agree with him there. Vlaskiv was pretty easy to find, and from what I'd heard from Ron, easy to capture. I listened carefully to their conversation as it continued, but several minutes later Harry took a deep breath and became silent.

"Well, now that I've investigated you," he sighed, rubbing his agitated eyes, "I can officially declare you off the suspect list. In fact, now that I know for certain you are not in ranks with the Dark Marked and have been helping the Ministry, I would like to propose that you testify against Vlaskiv."

"Of course I will. Vlaskiv killed my best friend. I hope the ruddy bastard rots in his hellish, murky grave," snarled Dennis. "I'll testify—I'll testify until his ears bleed from the truth and he crumbles to dust."

The pure hatred in Dennis's words caused my insides to tremble.

"Thank you, Dennis," said Harry, shaking his hand again. He threw a pointed look to me. "Hermione, can I see you for a moment?"

"Of course," I replied and then turned toward Dennis, noticing how he was clutching his side. "I'll fetch Pamela and send her in to tend to you."

"Wonderful," he whispered, smiling softly. "She sings the best songs when she's fixing me up."

Outside, Pamela was pacing the hallway impatiently. Once her eyes landed on Harry and then flew to me, she sucked in an excited, almost relieved breath.

"He needs you," I told her.

A small smile curled its way across the planes of her face and she nodded silently, rushing into the room to tend to Dennis once more.

"Hermione," Harry said, turning my attention back to him. "I wanted to apologize for the way I've acted lately. I've been—"

"Extremely stressed and carrying the world on your shoulders as always," I finished with a smirk. "You don't need to apologize, Harry. I'm used to you, remember?"

A true grin broke onto his features, making him look ten years younger. I gave him a large hug, giving him reassurance that he was not at fault.

"I think you should offer Dennis a job in the department," I suggested.

Harry seemed taken aback."Oh?"

"He's a brilliant tracker, he does great wand work, and he's got strength, bravery, and fight in him. He could be an undercover Auror," I said, "since he doesn't like the spotlight."

Harry seemed to ponder this, frowning.

"Just something to think about," I said.

"I'll definitely keep that in mind."

"Good. Now go home to Ginny, _don't_ talk about work, and have a nice meal, put the kids down for sleep, and relax," I ordered, pushing him lightly down the steps.

Soon, Harry was gone and I was left alone in my enormous house, gazing at the large portrait of the '_Malfoy Family_'. I sighed, heading downstairs. Seeing how it was a Saturday and Draco hadn't been spending much time at home since the Vlaskiv crisis, Draco had taken the boys into work with him. Luckily for me, they were going to grab something to eat at the Ministry, so I didn't have to worry about making dinner, and seeing as I how I wasn't hungry enough to make myself something, I decided to lie down. I sprawled out on the couch, wrapping a forest green duvet over my body, and shut my eyes, grateful for the peace and quiet.

But it didn't last long. Within what felt like minutes, I was being shook roughly awake and bombarded with the voices of my boys.

"Mummy, wake up!" Haden pleaded. "We home!"

"Alright, alright," I mumbled, sitting up and blinking, disoriented, around the living room. "I'm awake."

"Morning, sleepy-head," Draco greeted, bestowing a light kiss to the crown on my head and causing my entire body to erupt.

"Er—uh—hello," I greeted clumsily, feeling more foolish by the second. "How was your day?"

"Great," Draco answered. "The boys enjoyed themselves."

"That's good."

"Are you alright?" he asked me, seeming to detect something was off about me.

"Well, Dennis is awake," I told him and his eyes grew wide. "Harry stopped by and questioned him, so at least that's over with. He's still healing up, though."

"Well, that's good. I hope Harry didn't give him too hard of a time," Draco laughed. "Oh, by the way, I hope you don't mind, but I promised the boys that I'd take them to the beach when we got home."

"That's a great idea," I agreed. "It gives them an opportunity to get rid of all that pent up energy they probably had all day in that office of yours, am I right?"

"Very," he grumbled affectionately.

"Well, I'll come too," I told him. "Let's go get changed and meet down here in a few, okay?"

"You're wonderful," he said in response, reaching over to squeeze my hand before he set off upstairs.

From the distance I heard him holler to the boys to get ready and smiled as they cheered in response. I set off upstairs to scavenge for a bathing suit. A few moments later, I descended the stairs dressed in a one piece of deep, midnight blue which dipped low enough to show off my curves but still be modest, and clipped at the back. I wore my hair up in a plastic clip, revealing my honey-kissed shoulders and the light freckles that sprinkled the tops of them. Tied around my waist was a white satiny sarong with large blue flowers printed upon its silken material.

Below, Draco and the boys were applying sunscreen, all in their swimming trunks and towels. Draco's towel was wrapped around his strong neck and I gulped as my eyes drifted to the rest of him. His chest was bare and toned, pale but kissed with sun like mine. His swim trunks were red and I smirked at his choice in color—Gryffindor? Oh, the horror, surely!

"Ready to go?" he asked as I came to stand next to them.

"Go, go, go!" Haden demanded, grabbing both his father's hand and mine and tugging us toward the door with all his little might.

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint." Draco guffawed and allowed the little boy to tear open the front door. "Meet you down there?" he called over his shoulder.

Laughing, both Jasper and I followed them out the doorway, taking our time to venture toward the beach, enjoying each others company, yet not feeling the need to speak. Out of the blue, just as we crested the start of the beach, I felt Jasper clasp my hand in his. His palm was slick with sunscreen, but still I enjoyed the feel of his small fingers clasped in mine. I couldn't help but smile.

"Go on, go play," I encouraged him and he grinned widely at me before darting into the water with his brother and father.

By myself, I threw out the towels so that they stretched out over the sand, lounging on mine as I moistened my body with sunscreen. Haden's shrieks of laughter and the continuous splashing caused me to smile and I closed my eyes briefly, soaking up the rays and the happiness I felt inside me. My stress was gone and I felt loose inside my skin, like jam melting on the warm gin colored sand. Had it only been mere weeks ago—a month, maybe? I couldn't tell time anymore— that I had come to this very beach upon hearing of my father's unwelcome death, wishing the waves would swallow me whole? That day the ocean had been an ominous layout, a taunting, wicked thing. Today was much different. Today it felt peaceful, joyful, free—happy. Right.

"Tag!" Haden cried, swatting Jasper on his stomach. "You're it!"

"What?" Jasper hollered. "Oh, come on! Fine. Tag!"

"You didn't even give me time!" protested Draco as Jasper's fingers smacked against his hard torso. In response, Jasper blew him a raspberry and fled from his father's grasp in the water.

"Get Mummy!" Haden suggested, pointing to me. "She needs to play too, Daddy."

To my horror, Draco did as he was instructed, emerging from the blue waters surrounding him. His feet left memories on the damp sand as he walked calmly toward me, an amused smirk stretched wide across his face at the look—probably that of shock and indecision—on my face. Just when I thought I had time to think of a proper escape plan, Draco sprinted at me, diving right for me. I screeched and ducked out of the way, causing him to crash into the beach bag I'd brought with me. Before I could contain it, a loud giggle spurred out of my mouth and I laughed hard as I scurried away from him, sand flying in all directions. He came at me again with more speed than I had intended him to have, but then again, he'd always been more athletic than me.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" I shrieked as suddenly I was airborne. "You set me down this _instant_!"

"Why should I?" he laughed, twirling me in his arms, faster, faster, faster—

"_Draco!_ I will _hurt_ you!" I screamed, latching onto him with all my might, afraid I might go flying.

And then the earth came crashing down as Draco tripped and, still laughing—well, I was still screaming—we tumbled to the ground and rolled several paces in the golden sand. I continued to roll until I was flat on my back, the bare skin of my back shaking hands with the sand beneath it. My hair fanned out from its clip, which had become dislodged while Draco was spinning me, and it curled around my face like a halo. Draco landed on top of me with a large _'oof!'_. Both of us gasped for air, him still laughing, and me trying to puff out valuable insults and threats of what I was going to do to him. In the end, however, his laughter proved to be contagious, for I began to giggle as well, enjoying the sound of his easy laugh in harmony with mine, the warmth of his steady, strong body pressing against mine.

And at that moment all words were lost, just the sound of our laughter growing fainter and our gasps more urgent. The pounding of our hearts as we realized the position we were in. The smiles slipping from our faces, replaced by glazed looks of mild confusion and something I couldn't quite detect. An emotion just bubbling on the surface of my own features. An emotion I saw plainly in Draco's gray eyes. Up this close I could see flecks of glacier blue strewn inside his stormy gray irises, and it made them all that more unique to me. He had a tiny mole on his right shoulder, too, I noticed, and his lips were moist—not too big or too small either. Perfect.

And the more I kept noticing him, the more I kept noticing how close his face was to mine. How, with each passing second, those perfect moist lips drew ever closer to mine. Closer, closer, closer—just a hairsbreadth away, our very breaths tangoing together. My chest heaving up and down, a bridge about to be crossed. Almost past the point of no return. Almost, almost, almost—

Nothing.

My eyes flew open, just as Draco drew back, reluctant, his eyes downcast. As if as an afterthought, his warm fingers finally found my cheek. They caressed the plane of my cheek softly, just barely, tickling my flesh.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

And then his heat was gone. He stood before me with his hand outstretched to help me up. I found that I missed it greatly, the pressure of his body against mine, our breaths woven together as one, our hearts beating in time with each other.

"We shouldn't leave them alone for too long," Draco added when I didn't make to get up.

Flickering a glance at the two young boys splashing in the water, I sighed and put my hand in his, allowing that small touch to connect us once again.

"You haven't had any—any breakthroughs, have you?" he asked suddenly, walking slowly beside me as if biding his time.

"You mean with my memories?" I asked, confused. He nodded. "No, I haven't."

Again, he nodded, as if my reply was the answer to one of the questions raging inside him. For some absurd reason, I had to wonder if his reluctance to touch me all of a sudden was because of my memory loss. I dared a glance up at his face, which held a frown where moments ago he smiled. I wanted to see him smile again. I no longer wanted to be the source of his unhappiness.

"So, Pamela told me something interesting today," I started, changing the topic.

"Oh?"

"Mhm. She told me that she might actually be falling in love with Dennis," I confided. "It's only been two weeks since she met him, but she feels like there's this huge connection between her and Dennis that can't be explained. She feels something deeply for him and he seems to be reciprocating it, but I think that's just because she's caring for him in his time of need."

"You don't believe that she's falling for him," he stated.

"I find it absurd. You can't fall in love with someone that quickly or easily. She doesn't even know him," I argued.

He chuckled. "It's not that absurd, Hermione. You and I fell for each other quickly as well."

"Well, I would hardly think that's the normal circumstance—"

"And maybe Pamela and Dennis aren't the normal circumstance," he laughed, shrugging. "It doesn't have to make sense, Hermione. When you know, you just know."

And with that he left me on the beach to join our sons in the water. I couldn't help but think back to how it felt when I was trapped underneath Draco, my back pressed against the sand. How it felt to look into his eyes and see something I'd never expected to see there. How so suddenly, when I was feeling his warmth and touching his skin, I no longer felt that impending loneliness that had been with me ever since he had found me that day I discovered my father had died. He was the substance that filled the void inside me.

And I didn't know how he did it.

He just did.

I just—knew.


	17. No Funny Business

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, readers, favoritists, alertists, etc. I love you all! I'm sorry for the delay, again. I was very, very ill and it stalled my writing, so I apologize.

For those of you who are confused about Vlaskiv, shoot me an email or review and I'll explain more. Bear with me, please. Your author knows what she is doing! Now, you did get some Hermione/Draco action in the previous chapter. And there is more to come, so please don't fret.

Enjoy!

* * *

No Funny Business

"Oh, _blast__!_" I growled, cursing silently as my hip slammed into the edge of my vanity table, sending various perfume bottles and make-up dispensers leaping for their deaths.

Out of reflex, I snagged the rolling bottles before they managed to throw themselves off my vanity and shatter to the floor. Sucking in a deep breath to calm my scattered nerves, I replaced the bottles on my vanity and continued in my race to find the purple package that had been hiding from me all morning long.

"Stupid—blasted—bloody—" I seethed, dropping to my hands and knees to inspect the floor for any trace of glittery purple packaging.

Just then, there was a knock on the half-open door.

"Hermione, are you nearly ready? We need to be getting along soon. We're already thirty minutes late—what on earth are you doing?"

I had been in the process of searching underneath my bed when Draco had invaded my living space. Surprised, I let out a tiny shriek and smacked my head against the base of my bed, my face tangling in the bed-skirt as I hurried to remove myself from the dark abyss. When I resurfaced, Draco was staring at me with amusement and mild concern. He was dressed in dark jeans and a white button-up dress shirt which showed a glimmer of his chest. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing the toned muscles of his forearms. I swallowed, gaping at him like a fish.

"What exactly were you doing under there?" he asked, smirking. When I stalled to answer, he said, "What? Cat got your tongue?"

"If you must know," I snipped, dusting off my jeans as I stood up, "I was in the process of searching for Lily's present. I wrapped it up last night in purple wrapping paper—her favorite color—and it's gone. For the life of me, I just can't find it!"

I began to search the room frantically again, throwing pillows in various directions, checking the bathroom for the third time, inspecting the underbelly of my mattress again, but the devious little present would not reappear. And all the while, Draco just stood there, chuckling at me like I was the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed.

"You know, you _could_ be helping me, instead of just standing there like a baboon laughing at me," I huffed, pink in the face.

"I can't help it," he snickered. "You're just so cute when you're frazzled."

I huffed again, blowing the bangs out of my flushed face. Placing my hands on my hips, I said in a low voice, "Are you going to help me or not, Draco?"

"Help you with what, love?"

"Are you mentally constipated? The _present_," I nearly shrieked and then took a large breath. "Okay. Fine. Play it your way, then. Be an unhelpful little rat. But you should know that the sooner we find Lily's present, the sooner we can leave here and go to the Burrow."

"Oh, the present?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side and feigning innocence. "You mean _this_ present?"

His long, spidery finger pointed to the top of the dresser where a shiny purple package sat gathering dust. My jaw dropped. How had I _missed_ that? Was I that unobservant?

"H—How? Y—You!"

"I'm sorry," he laughed loudly as I whacked him and took the present. "I couldn't resist. It was _right_ there. You just kept overlooking it."

"Well, I'm so glad I amused you," I sniffed, rolling my eyes. "It's not like we were running late or anything."

"We were going to be late as it was," he rationalized, following me out of the bedroom and placing a hand on the small of my back. "Why couldn't I spend two more minutes teasing my wife?"

"You are so insufferable," I muttered, though I couldn't help the smile that embraced my lips.

"The perfect fit for the insufferable know-it-all," he whispered in my ear and I shivered, smiling.

"You still remember that?" I asked.

"Of course I do," he replied. "My favorite professor called the girl I lived to torture an insufferable know-it-all."

"And made her cry," I reminded him and he made a face.

"Yes, well, I never saw that part, mind you," he told me.

After gathering the boys and double checking that we had all that we needed, Draco and I apparated the boys to the field right next to the Weasley's swamp marshes. Grazing past the pig-pen, we reached the front door of the rather impressive and large Tudor-style house. I could smell the vines of wisteria from Mrs. Weasley's garden and the beautiful, homely aroma of the honeysuckle shrubs I had helped her plant on our girl's night. I knew that Mrs. Weasley did not have a green thumb, so the fact that her newly planted flowers were still in tact seemed to be a miracle to me.

"Dad?" asked Jasper worriedly, staring down at the small package in his hands. "What if she doesn't like my present?"

"Who, Lily?" Draco wondered, his eyes flickering to me and back to his son. "I'm sure she'll love whatever it is you got her. If she doesn't, she can always exchange it."

"Okay," whispered Jasper, biting his lip.

"Why, honey?" I asked him, placing my hand on his shoulder. Why was Jasper suddenly so concerned about whether or not Ginny and Harry's nine year old daughter would like his present or not?

"Nothing, just forget it," Jasper snapped, his fingers clutching the package in his hands tightly."It's nothing. Nothing."

Before I could ask any further questions about what was bothering my son, the door to the Burrow swung open wide.

"Oh, good!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, her rosy lips stretching wide as she took in the sight of Draco and I. "You're here! Come, come; you're just in time. I just finished icing the cake. She's already opening her presents."

"Without us? Are we really that late?" I asked, worrying my lip. I hated being so late.

"Oh, you know how impatient Lily is," Mrs. Weasley replied, waving my worries away as she steered us into the crowded dining room. "She's just like her mother and father."

"Draco, 'Mione!" cried Ginny happily, darting over to give Draco and me a peck on the cheek. "So glad you made it. I was beginning to wonder what kept you."

"Are we the last ones here?" I questioned, my eyes scanning over the large crowd of people.

"Oh, no, don't be silly," laughed Ginny. "I still haven't heard anything from Ari or Ron all day, so I don't even know if they remembered or not. Ari hasn't been responding to phone calls all day. Her house phone just rings and rings and her mobile just goes straight to voice mail every time."

"I'm sure they are on there way," I assured my friend.

"Come have some cake," Ginny insisted. "Oh, where did Draco go?"

I scoped the room for my suddenly missing-in-action husband and came up blank.

"With Harry?" I suggested, noticing the presence—or lack thereof—of Ginny's husband.

"Oh, blast those two," the redhead grumbled. "I swear, those two and crowds. They can't even handle five seconds in a room surrounded by people."

As Ginny fluttered away to help her daughter blow out the candles on her large purple cake, I took the seat closest to the open back door, letting the heat from the July afternoon warm my back. After cake and presents was over, the party commuted out the back doors and into the lush lawns of the Weasley's backyard to enjoy the late summer afternoon. With still no sign of Ariana, Ron, and their two girls, I was beginning to worry about them and wonder if they were in some sort of trouble or if they truly had forgotten. I was just about to pull out my mobile to ring Ariana when two little voices captured my attention.

"Hey, Lily! Wait," called Jasper, catching the small cinnamon haired girl before she could leave the indoors.

"Yeah?" she asked, tapping her foot expectantly on the wooden floor. Her green eyes wandered out toward the lawn where all her friends were laughing and playing tag. She looked eager to join them.

"Here," he said, shoving his present into her arms.

"You got me a present?" she gasped, blinking down at it. "Really?"

"Yeah, so?" Jasper said, his tone a bit defensive. "Didn't you want presents?"

"Yes, I did," she told him, smiling. "Thank you."

He shuffled his feet awkwardly on the wood.

"You haven't even opened it yet."

In response, Lily ripped open the wrapping paper, revealing a small figurine dressed in sky blue Quidditch robes with a dark blue 'T' on the front of his robes. I recognized the figurine from Jasper's movable Quidditch set, which he played with all the time in his room with Haden. It was a full Quidditch team with actual players that moved and flew on their broomsticks. His favorite of all the flying teammates was the captain of the Tutshill Tornados—the boys' favorite team. I noticed with great surprise that the figurine Jasper had given over to Lily was indeed his favorite flyer—the captain of the Tutshill Tornados.

"Um, what...is it?" asked Lily slowly.

At this, Jasper perked up and began to explain everything about it to her.

"It's the captain, he's really cool," Jasper was saying. "See? He can fly. Here's his broomstick and all you have to do is just tell him what to do and what moves to play and he'll do whatever you tell him to."

Lily stared at the small figurine as it zoomed around her head.

"It seems kind of dumb," she remarked. "All it does is fly in circles."

Jasper smirked and muttered something quietly to the figurine. Suddenly, the figurine swooped downward and spiraled in a nosedive toward the ground.

Lily gasped, horrified. "He's going to crash! Jasper, make him stop!"

"It's not going to crash, don't be a baby," Jasper said and squinted at the flying figurine. "All you have to do is tell him to stop. Go on, do it."

"I don't want to," argued Lily.

"Come on, just say it. Otherwise he's going to crash," Jasper urged.

"Fine," she huffed. "Stop!"

And the figurine came to a stop an inch from the wood floor. She gasped in awe and then began clapping her hands together.

"Wow!" she cried delightedly. "Wow, that was so exciting! Thank you, Jazzy!"

She flung her arms around Jasper's shoulders and squeezed him tightly. Jasper's face grew incredibly pink, whether from embarrassment or the fact that Lily was choking him to death, I had no idea. I smiled, however, when Lily finally released him and declared, "You're my best friend, Jazzy," and skipped outside. Jasper's face grew even more pink and an actual grin lit up his features, causing my little boy to look all that more handsome. Not even noticing my presence, his eyes glued solely on little Lily, he walked right past me and followed Lily outside.

"Ah, so _that's_ why he was so nervous about whether or not she'd like his present," observed Draco, coming to stand beside me, Harry in his wake.

"You know, I think Jasper might fancy Lily," I confided, giggling into Draco's chest at the look on Harry's face.

"You're joking," Harry said and groaned. "Great. Not only does my best friend have to go and marry a Malfoy, but now my daughter is at risk of a Malfoy's infatuation."

"Yes, whatever shall you do, Harry?" I teased.

"Beware, mate," Draco warned, smirking, "a Malfoy's charm is hard to resist."

"So I've noticed," grumbled Harry, sending an accusing glare to me before sauntering outside to join his wife.

It was just then that I noticed my fingers were still positioned over the numbers of my mobile.

"Trying to escape?" Draco teased, gesturing to my mobile.

I rolled my eyes.

"Hardly," I replied. "I was in the process of dialing Ari to see where she and Ron are. They're over two hours late."

"So, maybe they forgot," Draco said, shrugging. "What's the big deal?"

"She should be here," I told him. "It's the right thing to do, unless she had some kind of emergency. And in that case, I should still call her to see what's going on in case she needs help."

"I'm sure she's fine, love," Draco insisted. "Don't worry about her. Come on, let's go outside."

"You go," I told him and he frowned.

"Don't leave me to socialize on my own," Draco whined. "You know I won't survive it."

"I'll be out in a moment, I promise," I giggled, whacking his chest. "I'm just going to give her a call. Go on."

"Alright," Draco conceded, "but if you aren't out here in the next two minutes, I'm coming in after you and personally dragging you by the ankles to endure the torture with me."

I rolled my eyes as he disappeared out the doors and pressed the call button. Immediately the phone began to ring and I waited patiently for Ariana to pick up. She didn't. I tired two more times and by the third, I could almost feel the same irritation that Ginny must have felt earlier when she was trying to reach the silly French woman.

"Hello?" called a voice from the front of the house. "Anyone home? The door was open. I knocked, but I've been waiting for nearly five minutes for an answer—oh, Hermione!"

I snapped my mobile shut upon seeing Ariana and quirked my eyebrow at her.

"Mama, can we go play now?" asked Josette.

"Young lady, we had a deal," reminded Ariana. "You speak French as much as you can over the summer and Daddy and I will take you to France at the end of the summer, if you've done a good job."

"But I hate speaking French, Mama," pouted Josette.

"We had a deal. No French, no France and no Grandmama."

"Fine!" Josette snapped, stomping her foot. "Mama, _je peux aller jouer_?"

"_Oui, ma__ chérie_," replied Ariana, satisfied.

Both Josette and her little sister Phoebe ran off to join the others in the backyard.

"I'm confused," I stated after a long moment of silence.

"Oh," laughed Ariana. "The French thing? Well, you see, I haven't been back to France since the girls were born, and my parents are very strict about all their family being fluent in more than one language. While I was living in France, I had to be fluent in English, which is how I was able to talk to you without any problems when you came to France. My girls haven't been back to France since they were born, and I've been neglecting their studies in French, so I've had to start teaching them drastically now, otherwise my parents will have all of our hides and my children will either never want to see their grandparents again or never wish to speak French ever again."

She took a deep breath and I shook my head.

"No," I said, "I'm not confused about the French thing. Actually, I take that back; I was. However, that was not my point. I'm confused about why you are now two and a half hours late to your niece's party and why you haven't been answering our calls all day. Do you even know how many times Ginny has tried contacting you? I just not called you several times. You didn't even RSVP to tell Ginny you were coming. We'd thought you'd forgotten or something bad had happened to you."

Ariana, obviously not in the mood for a lecture, folded her arms across her chest and glared.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said. "I didn't mean to inconvenience you so. Hello to you, too. It's lovely to see you, as well. How am I doing? Oh, I'm doing just _spiffy_. Thank you for asking."

Immediately, I felt like slapping myself in the face.

"Ari, I'm sorry. I wasn't—"

"Expecting me to be upset?" she suggested crossly. "No, I wasn't expecting it either, up until a few minutes ago when Ron _finally_ answered my calls, just to tell me he wasn't going to be able to make it because he was with his _mates_."

"I'm sorry I jumped down your throat," I apologized, sensing she was on the verge of a breakdown. "Come sit down and have some cake. It's red velvet."

"I like red velvet," Ariana gave in, sighing as she sunk into a chair next to me. "And I'm sorry for snapping. I've had a hard day. I know you were just worried. But I was so upset, I just couldn't afford to talk to anyone until I was calmer, which is why I haven't been answering calls from any of you."

"Understandable," I said, taking her hand. "Care to tell me what Ronald has done now?"

"Yes, what ungodly thing has my idiot of a brother done now?"

Both Ariana and I turned as Ginny shot through the back doors and took a seat right next to me.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Ariana said and Ginny waved it off, already over it.

"Go on, spill," Ginny prodded.

"Well, I was getting the girls ready and we were already running late—it's been a hectic morning—and I was waiting for Ron, but he was already an hour late, and by the time I was finally ready to go, he wasn't answering his mobile and he wasn't home. So, I decided to wait for him, but by the time he finally picked up, it had been another bloody hour. And then he told me he had _forgotten_, even though I've been biting his ear off all week about it, and that he wasn't going to be able to _make it to the party_ because he was out with his _mates_."

"Not the bloody mates, _again_," Ginny scoffed.

"Am I missing something?"

"Yes," Ginny whispered. "I'll tell you later more in detail, but right now I'll tell you that he's been hanging with some people that aren't a good influence and both Harry and I are very worried."

"That about sums it up, actually, Gin. I have no doubt he's out there at one of those bars again, getting drunk," Ariana stated bluntly. "And I won't expect him home until probably after midnight when he gets Harry to finally come get him and bring him home to me."

"How long has this been happening?" I asked.

"Quite a while now," Ginny sighed. "And it appears to only be getting worse."

"Oh, Ari, I'm so sorry," I sympathized, giving her hand a squeeze.

"It's fine. It's not me I'm worried about," she said.

Her eyes flickered to little Phoebe, who was currently playing with Haden, chasing gnomes and giggling giddily.

"Hermione?"

My eyes wandered over to Draco, who was now leaning against the door frame.

"I'm coming," I told him.

"Hey, Ariana," greeted Draco.

"Hi," she replied with a small nod.

Ginny gave my hand a squeeze.

"Go with him," she whispered in my ear. "I'll keep Ari company until she feels better."

"Are you sure?"

"Go," she whispered again, smiling and nudging me out of my chair.

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

At the door, Draco took my hand and led me out to the grassy field.

"They're starting a game of Quidditch for the adults," Draco informed me.

"I take it you want to play," I assumed.

"Well, only if my best cheerleader is there to watch." He winked at me.

"Of course I'll watch," I said, rolling my eyes and shoving him off toward Harry and the others. "Oh, and I'm sure Ginny will want to play, so make sure you leave a spot open for her."

Minutes later, Draco and Harry were voted team captains on opposing sides—as always—and were picking their teams. Ginny rushed out just in time and Harry quickly placed her as a chaser on his team. Ariana followed slowly after and came to sit by me on a patch of grass on the hill. On the flowery hill we had the best view of our kids on one side and the Quidditch game on the other.

Ariana's mood seemed to have lifted since her talk with Ginny and I was grateful for my redheaded best friend's ability to cheer others with her wit and humor.

"They seem happy," Ariana noted, watching as Pheobe and Haden ran around, giggling over grumpy gnomes.

A few paces away from Phoebe and Haden, by the flower patches, Josette, Lily, and Jasper were sitting cross-legged on the grass, playing Rock-Paper-Scissors, a Muggle game I'd taught Jasper just a few weeks ago. It seemed that Jasper was losing. By the end of the game, Lily had won and stood up, laughing and swinging her long red hair around as she twirled in triumph.

"What's my prize?" she asked.

"Prize?"

"I won!" she declared happily. "Don't I get a prize?"

"Of course you do," Josette agreed, twirling with her, their hands clasped together. "We'll find you one, don't worry!"

As the girls twirled around, Jasper stood and paced over to the flower bed. Once there, he bent over and plucked up a single yellow dandelion, ruffled from probably being stepped on, and hesitantly walked back to the two girls.

"Here," he said, thrusting the wilting dandelion toward Lily.

"For me?" Her green eyes were wide and bright in her amazement.

"Of course it's for you. Don't be stupid," he muttered.

"Thank you, Jazzy," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I'll keep it forever."

Ariana and I giggled at the display, watching as my son grew a dark shade of red, his white fingers dusting over the spot Lily had kissed.

"And by the way, Jazz," said Lily with a grin, giving him a shove. "I'm _not_ stupid."

"Tag! You're it!" Josette announced, tapping Lily on the shoulder. "Come on Jazzy! Play with us."

Immediately, Jasper and the girls began to sprint, dodging each other and tackling one another. I looked back at Ariana, only to notice that she was now lying on her back, gazing at the fluffs of clouds above us.

"You know, when you and I were back in France," Ariana said, "we would find a nice patch of grass by the Eifel every Sunday and have a picnic and lie in the grass and watch the clouds. Somehow, you always managed to find pictures of bunny rabbits in the sky, without fail, every time."

We shared a smile, but I didn't join her in her cloud gazing. Instead, my eyes wandered over to the Quidditch pitch where Draco was spiraling around on one of the Weasley's Cleansweeps. I knew instantly how much he hated riding on a cheap broom, but thankfully there was no irritation on his face. He was actually smiling broadly and it was such a gorgeous sight to behold that I was suddenly breathless. I loved it when he smiled.

"You're starting to fall for him, aren't you?" Ariana asked, sitting up.

"Who?"

"Your husband, you nut job," Ariana laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Don't be absurd," I said hastily, rolling my eyes despite the raging heat I suddenly felt all over my face.

"I'm not being absurd," argued Ariana. "I'm being observant."

"Well, your eyesight must have gone a bit wonky," I told her, watching as the teams dispersed and broke off their brooms, hiking up the hill. Harry's team seemed to be the brightest, all of them smiling and laughing. Draco's team obviously hadn't won.

"Oh, _my_ eyesight has gone a bit wonky?" Ariana laughed. "If you're still fighting your unbidden attraction to that man, _your_ eyesight has gone wonky."

"Nope," I disagreed quickly, jumping to my feet as Draco came over. "Your eyes have the problem. You should get it checked out."

"Hello, beautiful," Draco greeted, giving me a swift one-armed hug, his broom slung over his opposite shoulder. "What should I get checked out?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry about the game," I said and he shrugged. "If it's any consolation, you did really well."

"Thanks, honey," Draco said, kissing the top of my head.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ariana give me a look as she passed. I stuck out my tongue at her, but it did nothing to lessen the large smirk on her face.

"Are you ready to head home?" he asked as we walked down the hill and toward our sons.

"If you are."

"I'm beat," he confessed, still panting slightly from the game.

"Alright," I agreed, patting his back. "We'll take you home so you can rest."

By the time we were done saying our goodbyes—which took longer than I ever imagined goodbyes should take—the sun was setting and the sky was awash with colors. I clasped Draco's hand in my right hand and Jasper's in my left as Draco held onto Haden's hand and all of us vanished by the Weasley's pig-pen with a loud _pop_.

We appeared in the living room, startling Pamela and Dennis who were on the couch, cuddled close together with mugs of steaming liquid. Upon our arrival, Dennis and Pamela both jumped, nearly spilling their burning drinks on themselves. I gave them an apologetic look.

"How was the party?" asked Pamela. "I didn't know when you would be back, so I just whipped together some pasta for dinner. I hope you don't mind."

"You need to stop doing everything for my wife, Pamela," Draco joked. "She may die of boredom."

"Oh, hush. Thank you, Pamela," I said, giving Draco a swat on his arm. "I'll go set the table. Boys, wash up. Dinner is ready."

The boys set off to clean up as Draco and I set the table. At the table, Draco and I sat together and Pamela and Dennis sat together. The boys happily dove into their pasta while Draco and I listened to Pamela describe their day together, how Dennis was doing extremely well, how he had told her all about Vlaskiv and how Vlaskiv had wanted to kill Dennis because he was leading the Aurors right into his ranks, and he had unknowingly led the Ministry into the Dark Mark hideout. Of course, I groaned upon hearing about Vlaskiv, wishing to put the whole ordeal behind me, but Draco perked up, interested in the madman who almost killed me.

After dinner, which consisted mostly of Dennis and Draco talking quietly about Vlaskiv and the upcoming trial of the madman, Pamela and I set off to clean the dishes. The boys had long since excused themselves from the table and were playing upstairs in their bedroom when I went to check on them and help them get ready for bed. I watched as they played with Jasper's Quidditch set, noticing that his captain figurine was nowhere in sight. It still surprised me that Jasper had given Lily Potter his favorite Quidditch figurine.

"He must really like her," I whispered to myself, watching my blond son with a fond smile.

After a few more seconds of watching my sons, I crept into their rooms to inform them that it was bed time.

"Alright, you two, time for bed," I said and both boys dropped their toys, frowning.

"Aw, Mum," Jasper complained."Can't we stay up a little later?"

"Hm, let me think about that," I teased, swooping to tickle both of them. "No!"

Both boys erupted in giggles, trying to pry my fingers away.

"Fine, fine, we'll go to bed!" Jasper gasped.

"Yeah, stop ticklin' us, Mummy and we go to bed!" Haden shrieked, smiling despite himself.

"Promise?"

"Promise," the boys shouted in unison.

I ceased my tickling and helped Haden into his bed while Jasper curled under his covers. I gave them a kiss and read to them, and while Jasper conked out almost immediately, Haden was still fighting to stay awake.

"What is it, sweetie?" I asked him quietly, smoothing back his curly brown hair.

"Why don't you and Daddy sleep together anymore?" he asked me. "Are you mad at him?"

"Mad at him? No, of course not, honey," I said, confused.

"But you and Daddy only don't sleep together when you get really mad," Haden argued, convinced Draco and I were fighting. It must be confusing to a little boy when his parents suddenly aren't sleeping in the same bed or room anymore. It would worry me too, if I were his age. But what could I do, invite Draco to sleep in my bed?

_You know you want to_, said the annoying voice in my head.

_Shut up_, I told my inner conscience.

Just the very thought of Draco, shirtless, wrapped up in my bed linens, so close to me that his heat radiated off of his skin and pressed into mine, sent my stomach into a somersault of butterflies. I quickly shook my head, trying and failing to get that picture out of my head. The room suddenly felt very hot.

Suddenly remembering my son, I opened my mouth to come up with some kind of explanation as to why his mother and father weren't sleeping in the same bed anymore, but it was no use. Haden's eyes were already shut, his chest slowly moving up and down. Smiling, I kissed his forehead and turned off his lamp, shutting the door behind me when I exited.

When I returned to my room, I felt oddly hollow. The room, bathed only in the light of the moon, seemed eerie and stale. I glanced at my bed, feeling suddenly afraid to sleep inside of it, frightened that the nightmares would come again tonight, just as they had every other night. Frightened that the horrible feeling of loneliness would creep inside my sheets and twine around my body, locking me inside myself, again. Gulping, I flipped on the lights, showering my room with a warm glow. Still, there was a hollowness inside of it.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered to myself, and turned away from the suffocating room, down the hallway, and into Draco's room.

I wouldn't usually burst into his room, especially when his door was closed. I couldn't explain why I did this, why I rushed away from my lonely room and threw open the door to Draco's bedroom. But as I did and he spun around, halfway in the process of taking off his shirt, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hermione?"

He was at my side in seconds, taking my hand.

"You're very pale," he stated. "Are you alright?"

Instead of answering, I began flurrying around his small and cramped room, opening the drawers and removing his trousers and undergarments, the novels on his bedside table which, like me, probably kept him from thinking of how lonely he was, and his bathroom supplies from the guest bedroom's bathroom. All of his items now rested in my arms, for they were few. How had he been existing in this tiny room for so long?

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" he called after me as I tore from his room and down the hallway. He followed me. "Hermione?"

The door to my bedroom was still open wide and I danced into the bedroom with ease. After throwing his undergarments and trousers into his drawers, I plopped his novels onto the bed and threw open the bathroom door, carelessly leaving his toiletries on the counter in my haste, and hanging up his dress shirts neatly. Finally, I returned to the bedroom, where Draco was still standing in the doorway, open mouthed, eyes bulging.

"W-What are you doing? I need all of those things," Draco protested.

"Yes, you do," I agreed, breathless.

"Well then what the hell are you doing?"

"Your belongings don't need to stay in that horrible room anymore, Draco," I gasped.

"What do you mean?"

_Stop it. Stop_ _talking,_ the reasonable voice in my head screamed._ Close your mouth before you suggest something you might forever regret! You are _safe _just the way you are! What are you _doing? _What is the matter with_—

"Stay with me."

_There you go, saying something stupid. I told you not to do that. I told you!_

"Stay—Stay with—you?" he spluttered.

"Yes, Draco," I said, lifting my chin. Inside, my intestines squirmed with the threshold I was about to cross, but I ignored it. Something deeper inside pushed me on, telling me it was time to stop being scared.

"What?" he stammered.

"For appearances sake, for our children," I said quickly. "It would be...better. For our children. If we slept in the same room. In the same bed."

"You want to sleep with me?"

"No!" I snapped. "I mean, yes. No. Yes. Not like that! You know what I mean."

"I...think I do."

"Just to give the illusion to our children," I repeated.

"Okay," he answered slowly, and I knew that I had ripped the rug from which he had been standing right out from underneath him with my suggestion. I knew he was confused and a bit apprehensive. I knew he didn't know what to do. Just like me.

"But there is one condition," I breathed, knowing there was no turning back.

"Anything," Draco said hurriedly. I could feel his eyes blazing into my face, but I didn't dare look at him, lest I lose my nerve.

"_No_ funny business."

"Funny business?" he snorted.

"Yes! No funny business. We simply sleep. Nothing else. Am I clear?"

"Yes, 'Mione, you are very clear," he laughed. "You're so absurd sometimes."

"It's why you love me," I said, but just as I said it, I gasped and my hands shot to cover my lips.

"Yes, it is," he replied, and finally I dared to look at him, wondering where we stood now that we had crossed this threshold.

Had I done the right thing? Was it really for the children, as I had stated so many times? Or was it something else? Something that kept Draco and I both awake at night, reading or thinking until we finally passed out from exhaustion? Something that had us keeping ourselves as busy as possible?

I realized, in that moment, as Draco moved to the bathroom on unsteady feet, that I hadn't proposed he stay in our bedroom for our children, or for the pretenses. I had done it because I didn't _want_ to be scared anymore. I didn't _want_ to be alone anymore. I had done it for one reason, and one reason alone.

I _wanted_ to share my life with Draco.

And that scared me to death.


	18. The Green Eyed Monster

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Oh, all of you make me so happy. Can you believe we are almost at the 400 marker? And it's all because of you wonderful readers and reviewers. Thank you for always being there to cheer me on! So, Hermione and Draco, sleepin' in the same bed. How does that make ya'll feel now? Haha. Well, here is the next chapter, for all you kind readers.

Enjoy!

* * *

The Green-Eyed Monster

I was standing on an icy precipice, watching the white capped waves crash murderously against the jagged rocks of the cliff I was mounted on. Above me the sky burned black, smoking and slithering, roaring down at me. Fierce veins of lightning pierced the sky, raising the hairs on my slick skin. Moisture struck me, freezing and slicing my flesh. I knew I should go find shelter, take cover from the storm before it tore me apart and I tumbled away, but my feet were grounded and I could not move.

"Hermione."

Whipping around, my eyes registered Ron, his hair like a signal fire, blazing in a backdrop of gray and black shadow.

"Ron?" I said, my voice trembling.

"What are you doing out here?" he wondered, his voice sounding as frigid as the breeze toying with our hair.

"I don't know," I sincerely replied, gripping my white lace nightgown tightly in my hands. The wind blew the soft material around my knees, raising goosebumps on my bare legs and feet.

"Come with me," Ron suggested, reaching for my hand.

I tried to move toward him, reaching my hands for him, but my body remained where it was, too close to the cliff, frozen to the ground.

"I can't," I told him and he frowned.

"Yes, you can," he pleaded and I watched as he stepped closer to the edge of the cliff, closer to me. "It's not too late. Please."

"Ron, I can't," I told him again, but I was unable to tell him why. I couldn't tell him why my feet were frozen to the icy earth.

"Why? What are you waiting for?" Ron asked stonily.

"I don't know."

The wind howled and Ron's fury magnified itself in blazing fire.

"You do know, you _do_!" he snarled, gripping my hand fiercely. When I shook my head, frightened at his intensity, he clutched my face and turned my head to stare into the distance, where a bright figure was emerging through the darkness. "It's because of him."

"Draco?" I whispered, unable to look away from him as he approached.

"Please, come with me," Ron begged again, gripping me tighter, pulling at me.

Something in my stomach jolted and I looked between him and Draco, oddly torn.

"You have a choice, Hermione," Draco whispered, suddenly by my side, his light reflecting off my gown. "You always have a choice."

"You have to come with me, please," Ron said again. "You can't choose him. Not after everything we've been through."

"The time is now, Hermione," Draco whispered, gripping my other hand. "You must make your choice."

"I love you," Ron told me.

"I love you, as well," Draco confessed in a hushed tone, only for me to hear. "But you must make your choice. Whichever you choose, I love you."

Just then, a jagged slice of lightning collided with the cliff, breaking the rocky ground upon which Ron was standing. The force of his fall caused me to crumble to the earth, my hand still tightly woven with his. I was no longer frozen and as he struggled not to let go of my hand, I began to slide painfully off of the cliff with him. The only thing keeping me from completely leaving the ground was Draco, for my other hand was still gripping his.

"He will only bring you down with him, love," Draco told me, his gray eyes luminescent and pleading with me. So much emotion. So much. "Please, for both your sakes, let him go."

The pain was so immense it was almost blinding as I slid closer and closer to the edge, allowing Ron to drag me down. Soon, if I didn't choose, I would tumble off into the dark, rocky abyss.

"I can't," I protested, a sob in my throat. "He'll die. He won't make it."

"He's stronger than you think," Draco insisted, squeezing my hand. "You don't have to meet the same destiny that he does. There is always a choice."

The sun glimmered behind a gray cloud, forcing the cloud to break apart and make room for its light. It shined down on Draco and the world became soft and calm and beautiful. The trees were plentiful with fruit, the grass was bright and lush, and our house—mine and Draco's—stood glimmering in the distance. A few paces away stood Haden and Jasper, both bright in countenance and pleading like Draco. Beside them stood Pamela and Dennis, holding hands.

The thought of leaving them all behind was more painful than the rocks crushing and ripping my abdomen as I slid toward Ron and the blackness of the sea.

"The only way to move forward, for us, for _them_—" Draco said, gesturing to the individuals behind him, "—is to let go of what you are holding onto—" He nodded toward Ron, "—and trust what you feel is right in your heart."

Pamela took a step forward. "Trust that your destiny can change."

"I don't believe in destiny!" I cried. I was almost over the edge now.

"Well, maybe you should," she whispered and her words blew around me, heavy as rain, yet soft as snow.

_Maybe you should. Maybe you should. Maybe...Maybe...Maybe._

I startled awake with a sharp gasp, gripping my heart so hard I thought I would tear it straight from my body.

"Merlin, I thought you were dead."

My eyes, still bleary from sleep, focused on Harry, who was standing above me, prodding me with his finger. I noticed I was in my office, my elbows resting on my desk, my green blouse rumpled.

"Sleeping on the job?" Harry joked.

"I'm sorry, Harry," I apologized quickly. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't worry, I'm only giving you a hard time," Harry laughed.

"You seem in better spirits than usual," I noted. "Are you alright?"

This caused him to burst out laughing, which startled me further. Eventually, though, I began to laugh as well.

"I just finished talking to the head of the Magical Law Enforcement department," Harry announced.

"Wonderful," I said slowly. "What's so happy about that?"

"They held the trial for Vlaskiv this morning," Harry informed me, smiling broadly. "I wasn't able to stay the entire trial, but Dennis and I stated our pieces. Apparently, Dennis's testimony did the final trick in condemning Vlaskiv."

He paused, probably for dramatic effect, and I swatted him.

"Well?" I pressed.

"Vlaskiv has been sentenced to life in Azkaban prison, to rot forever in the presence of soul-sucking dementors," said Harry.

"That's great!" I exclaimed, practically jumping from my seat. "But how will we know that he won't escape like he did in Nurmengard?"

"Because Azkaban has better security, including that of dementors," Harry explained. "Nurmengard has become lax in their security, which was how Vlaskiv was able to escape anyway, with the help of helpful Death Eaters."

"Well, I'm glad he's finally taken care of," I said, giving his hand a squeeze, happy to share this moment with him. "So, what is it that you needed?"

"You know me too well," Harry chuckled and held out a red file, jammed to breaking point with parchment.

"Good Godric," I gasped as he placed the heavy file in my arms. "What is this?"

"Ministry nonsense," Harry answered with a wink. "I need you to run those up to floor five for me."

"F-Floor five?" I stammered, instantly flushing. "But that's—"

"The Department of International Magical Cooperation, yes," Harry finished. "I expect you'll have no trouble finding your way there."

"But Draco works—"

"Yes, I know Draco works there. In fact, he is the one you must give those documents to," Harry said and I dropped my jaw. "Oh, sorry. Did I fail to mention that?"

"Harry!" I said, reaching out to swat him again, but he dodged my blow.

"What?" Harry laughed. "I had to. You have been avoiding him too much. You know, to invite a bloke into your bed and then avoid him all the time when not inside that bed is just shameful and down right mean, 'Mione."

"Harry James Potter!" I squeaked, glancing around my office and at the door.

"Oh, come off it, no one heard it. And if they did, so what? It's not like you've never had sex with—"

"I am _not_ having sex—er, _relations_—with him!" I hissed, whacking him with the file.

"No need to be so violent," Harry teased and I whacked him again. "Mind those files. They are important, you know."

I whacked him again in response.

"Okay, I can get the hint," Harry finished, smirking as he inched toward my door. "But in all seriousness, it's important you give those directly to Draco and not his secretary. They must be passed directly into his hands and not to any other member of that department. I would go myself, but I have a training session I'm already late to."

"Go on, then."

I ushered him out of my office, grabbed my purse, secured the file in my arms more firmly, and headed for the elevator lift. Once inside, I pressed the number five and stood back, breathing shallowly. I was oddly nervous to see Draco. It'd been a full week since we started sharing a bed together, and though he was completely respectful and was honoring our "no funny business" pact perfectly, I still couldn't stop the shaking that resulted whenever I was so near him. I couldn't explain what I was feeling, but whenever we were in each others presence for too long, or very close to each other, I couldn't think straight and my world seemed to spin so much faster than normal.

Harry had been right when he said I had been avoiding Draco. I knew it was cruel and that sharing a bed meant nothing, especially since Draco was more than gentlemanly, but I had no idea what I had gotten myself into when I'd suggested we share a bed together. I had no idea that it would effect me so drastically. And the new revelation that I wanted _Draco Malfoy_ in my life—that I _needed_ him in order to feel fully complete—terrified me.

_Bing_.

"Level five," chimed the elevator lift. "Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Pull yourself together, Hermione," I whispered and, steeling myself, exited the lift.

I'd had to deliver several documents to this floor before, but never had I been given instruction to personally give a file to Draco himself. Usually, for time's sake, I just gave the documents or files to Draco's secretary, Regina Spector.

"Afternoon, Hermione," greeted a middle-aged man with graying brown hair and kind blue eyes. I'd seen him every now and again when I would drop off documents. He had the cubical closest to the door and always had a mug of coffee on the same corner of his desk. Unfortunately, I could never remember his name for the life of me.

"Good afternoon," I replied with a smile.

"What brings you up here today?" he wondered.

I lifted up the heavy red file. "I need to give these to Draco. You wouldn't happen to know where his office is, would you?"

"Course I do," he answered, pointing to the office to his right. "But I think he's in his office with someone. You can probably just hand them to his secretary."

"Thank you," I told him, refraining from telling him I had specific orders to hand them to Draco himself.

As I walked toward the office, I noticed that the secretary desk by his office was empty anyway. Regina must be taking a late lunch break. The door to his office was shut—most likely because he was meeting with someone—and so I peeked into the window beside the door, hoping to catch his attention. I found Draco immediately, and despite myself I found myself smiling like a fool. He was indeed in the office with someone and they appeared to be having a pleasant conversation, although it did strike me as a little odd at how Draco was sitting. He was sitting on the edge of his desk, close to the chairs I guessed, swinging his legs back and forth slightly. It was very unprofessional of him, I thought.

Draco threw back his head and laughed a laugh so loud I could hear it from all the way outside his office. I shuffled to the right a bit more to get a better view and was just about to tap on the glass when I noticed who he was talking to. A beautiful woman sat in the chair closest to him, her long model-like legs crossed in an attractive, ladylike position. Her skirt was a little too short for my liking and her baby blue lace top—sleeveless, of course—showed every curve in her slim body and accented her breasts, which were peeking perkily from the top of her shirt, just right. Maybe a little too "just right".

She moved to the edge of her seat, unfolding her long tan legs, blinking her big beautiful blue eyes, and took his hand in hers. As she leaned forward, smiling beautifully, her long satiny black hair swooped gracefully down her back. Draco gave her hand a pat, nodded, and pulled her to her feet so that they were standing face to face. Close. I didn't like how close. And then she leaned over and ruffled his hair—his neat, gelled, handsome hair—so that it was sticking every which way, almost to the point where he resembled Harry.

Before I could even fathom what I was doing, I threw open the door to his office with a flourish so that it banged into the wall. The woman shrieked and Draco jumped and it took all that I had not to punch them both straight in the mouth. I cleared my throat rather loudly, and glared heatedly at the woman opposite me, not even truly meaning to. I had no idea what was happening to me. I felt like I was on fire, quite literally. It frightened me.

"Hermione!" Draco exclaimed, stepping away from the woman.

I noticed that the woman looked incredibly familiar. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously. Who was she? Why on earth did she look so familiar to me, when I was certain I had never met her before in my entire life?

"What are you doing here, love?" Draco asked.

I turned my narrowed eyes on him and pointed to the woman by his desk.

"Who's she?"

The woman looked a little saddened by my question.

"Her memory," Draco explained quietly.

"Yes, of course," the woman said and then replaced her wounded face with a bright, happy one. "You wouldn't remember me, of course."

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. For some reason I thought I would be an exception, but I suppose I'm not."

"Stori," Draco consoled, "it's not that you aren't important to her. It's just that she doesn't remember the last eleven years of her life."

The woman gave a small laugh. "Yes, Draco, I understand." Then, turning to me she said, "I'm Astoria Greengrass."

_What?_ I mentally screamed. Astoria Greengrass. As in the woman Draco had been engaged to? Oh, it all made so much sense now! Of course she looked familiar to me. She was the woman I saw in Draco's pensive.

"Astoria, huh?" I said, staring at her intensely.

In response to my coldness, Astoria cocked her head to the side, confused.

"Are you all right?" she asked me, stepping toward me. "You seem tense, Herm."

Something white hot flashed inside me.

"_Don't_ call me Herm," I practically snarled, hating the nickname in the first place, and hating the fact that _she_ had just called me that. "I don't even know you."

Taken aback, Astoria cleared her throat.

"I'd like to speak to Draco."

I shifted my eyes quickly to Draco, whose own eyes were as wide as an elf's. When I returned my gaze to Astoria, I noticed that she had yet to move. My fingers twitched.

"_Alone_, if you please."

Finally, it seemed she had gotten my hint. Blinking rapidly, she gave Draco a small shrug and, like a puppy with its tail between its legs, exited the office. When finally we were alone, Draco turned on me.

"What the hell do you have shoved up your arse?" he snapped.

Completely taken off guard by his anger—I was the one that was supposed to be angry here, not him!—I blinked rapidly and stammered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were horrible to her!" he shouted at me, flinging his arm at the door Astoria had just walked out of. "She's one of your _best_ friends and you just treated her like she was Lord Voldemort himself!"

"I'm friends with _her_?" I gasped, pausing to look the woman outside the window up and down.

"Of course you are," he sniped. "Don't be bloody ridiculous!"

"I'm not being ridiculous, Draco," I quipped in response.

"Yes, you are. What the hell was your problem?"

"I should be asking you the same thing!" I snapped and he furrowed his brow. "Why was _she_ in _your_ office?"

"I was interviewing her," he replied, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Interviewing her on _what_ exactly? How to hold hands with married men? How to stand too close to _taken_ men?"

"On being my new secretary," Draco spluttered."Regina quit two days ago and I had to find a replacement. You've gone mental, I swear, if you think there is anything—"

"She's your former_ fianceé_, Draco! I'm not blind!" I screeched.

"_Former_ is the operative word here, Hermione," he said, reaching for me. "I'm married to _you_."

I moved away from him, seething, and slammed the large red file on his desk. Moving toward the door, I sent him another glare.

"I'll see you at home," I spat.

Suddenly, there was a loud gasp. Surprised, I turned around in time to see Draco rocket forward, pushing himself away from his desk.

"Wait!"

I stopped, turning to face him all the way with my hands on my hips.

"How'd you know that she was my fainceé?" he asked. "I didn't tell you that, I'm sure of it. Did you—did you remember something?"

"No," I replied quickly, biting my lip as I remembered that I wasn't supposed to know who Astoria was and that the only reason I knew of her was because I had peeked into Draco's pensive without permission.

"Then how could you have possibly known that? Did someone tell you?"

I shook my head, opening my mouth to try and tell him how I knew this select piece of information.

"Then you must have remembered something!" he cried excitedly, coming forward to give me a hug, forgetting our argument in his happiness. I hated that I had to break the truth to him after getting his hopes up so much.

"No, Draco," I said, moving away from his hug.

He frowned. "What is it?"

"I—well—I kind of, sort of, might have—looked into your pensive?"

It took him a moment to register what I said, but then I saw him deflate and knew he had figured me out.

"Oh."

I closed my eyes, hating how pained he seemed. When he cleared his throat I opened my eyes. He ran a hand through his already messed up hair.

"Well, then you saw that I left her for _you_," he said and I sighed, shooting him a frustrated look.

"That doesn't matter, Draco. She was giving you the_ eye_."

He scoffed.

"You are being _absurd_!"

I was tempted to say what I had said last week when I asked him to sleep in the same bed as me—"That's why you love me"—but I refrained, knowing that wouldn't be the wisest thing to say at the moment.

"I'm not being absurd," I argued and when he rolled his eyes, I said, "I know what I saw. She was far too friendly to just be your secretary!"

"Maybe because she's not just my secretary. We're _friends_, Hermione, don't you understand that word?" he nearly shouted. "Nothing more! I can't believe you're getting so jealous by _Astoria_."

"I am not jealous," I scoffed.

"Oh, yes you are."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why should I be jealous?"

"Do you think I get jealous whenever you have alone time with _Harry_?" Draco asked.

"Harry? Are you crazy? You get jealous of Harry?"

"No. That's my point," Draco said. "I trust you and I know you and him have always just been friends. You had an attraction to him in your fifth year, as you've told me, but you have no feelings for him now and haven't since."

"I only liked him _briefly_ fifth year," I added, even though it hardly mattered.

"I only liked Astoria, my _arranged_ fianceé, for a _brief_ time," he pressed, taking my hand. "That was before I even stepped _foot_ in Paris, and far before I fell in love with you. Hermione, honestly, come to your senses. I love _you_ and I always will. Astoria and I feel nothing for each other and really never have. We're both happily married and _madly_ in love with our spouses."

At this, he poked me affectionately on my nose and I sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," I whispered, completely ashamed of my behavior.

"You were just confused, that's all," he rationalized and I sighed, still upset with myself. "And jealous."

"I was not jeal—"

"Admit it."

"No."

"Admit it. You were jealous."

"Draco, no."

"Come on. You won't even admit you were just a _little_ jealous?"

"Goodbye, Draco."

I rolled my eyes as I exited his office.

"So jealous!" he called after me and I took the liberty of shutting his door for him.

Once outside his office, I was immediately ambushed by Astoria.

"Look, I'm really sorry—I couldn't help but overhearing," she said and by the look on her face, she seemed truly upset. "Draco and I are _just_ friends, I swear to God above and all his angels, even on my mum's grave—I do not love or feel any attraction to your husband. He and I were engaged through old pureblood family practices before he found you and I found Blaise in Paris. We were mildly attracted to each other, but just preferred our company as friends."

"I know—" I started.

"Me finding Blaise was destiny and you and Draco are perfect for each other," Astoria rambled on, nearing hysterics. "Hermione, you and I were nothing but the greatest of friends. We still are. You have dinner at our house once a month, for heaven's sake! Please, remember I'm your friend and not your enemy."

"I know," I said, taking her hand to stop her from breaking down. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Astoria, for jumping to such a horrible conclusion and placing the blame on you. I would love to have dinner with your family sometime soon and hear about how we became best friends."

Astoria blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I said and I meant it.

"Wonderful!" she gasped and brightened right up. "And don't worry, I don't blame you for reacting the way you did. When women like us have hunky husbands like them, it's our duty to embrace our inner green-eyed monster when a new woman emerges into our husband's lives."

Despite every horrible thought I had about her earlier, I found myself laughing along with her, unable to hate her. In fact, I found I actually liked her. I could see the possibility of us being friends.

"I'll talk to Blaise and we'll set up a dinner date," Astoria said and then, to my surprise, hugged me tightly. "I've missed you so much."

I still felt horrible about the way that I had treated her and Draco. In fact, I felt so bad about the whole episode that I was _still_ thinking about it an hour later. With a sigh, I began to pack up my things—it was long past time for me to be getting home. I clocked out, said goodbye to Harry, and exited the office. Just as I was about to head toward the exit and to the lifts, I saw Ariana flee from her office, sobbing something terrible. Feeling instant dread settle in the pit of my stomach, I followed quickly after her, calling out her name. Either she didn't hear me or chose to ignore me because she immediately ducked into the bathroom.

I burst through the door, surprising the wailing Ariana. Luckily for both of us, the lavatory was empty.

"Oh, Hermione," she sobbed and the sound of it broke my heart.

"Come here," I said, dropping my purse on the tile and opening my arms up for her.

She came to my side and buried her head in my chest, heaving giant sobs into my blouse. After a while of just letting her cry, I finally took her over to the sinks to give her a towel to clean up her make up, where she hopped up and took a seat on the granite counter.

"Ari, what on earth is the matter?" I asked, worried.

She sniffed in response, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly.

"What is it?" I asked tentatively, taking the seat beside her on the counter.

As she turned to face me, she shyly brushed away the small streams of mascara laden tears and shrugged again. She gave a rather unattractive sniff and stared at her shoes, frowning so deeply I was afraid it would remain permanently etched on her pretty features. Never once had I seen Ariana, who was usually so bubbly and charismatic, so pained and broken.

But the look in her eyes was something I could automatically detect, for I'd often had the same look in my eyes while I was dating Ron.

"It's Ron, isn't it?" I guessed and she shrugged again. "What'd he do?"

She took a long, deep breath to gather herself and looked up at me with her dull green eyes.

"Ron's moved out," she whispered and as soon as she had finished the very simple explanation, her chin began to quiver as more tears pooled in her glassy orbs.

"Moved out?" I repeated, hoping I'd heard wrong but knowing I hadn't. "What do you mean he's moved out?"

"I mean we fought last night when he came home around three in the morning—out drinking with his friends, again, no doubt—and I woke up this morning to do my shopping and when I came back…he was just gone. He took his toiletries and some other things and left me a note."

"What did it say?" I asked, worrying my bottom lip.

"It said, 'Sorry. I just can't.'"

Ariana began to cry again, hiccupping as her cries turned into gradual sobs. I took her into my arms and held her close to my body, feeling as she trembled and her body convulsed with heartbreak. I was very upset with Ron right now. He had a wife who loved him so very, very much and instead of remaining with her at night like a good, loving husband should, he abandoned her again to go out partying with friends that were obviously not of good influence to him and whom Ariana had stated to him that she didn't feel comfortable with him being friends with. His selfishness was breaking his wife's heart. I couldn't even imagine how little Phoebe and Josette were feeling about their father's continued absence.

"Where's he staying?" I asked.

"The Burrow," she sighed. "I tried calling his mobile seventeen times today, but he's ignored me every time. Finally, he turned off his phone, because whenever I ring him, it goes instantly to his message machine."

"How'd you discover he was staying at the Burrow, then?"

"Molly rang me about an hour ago and told me that she'd thought I should know and that he was safe, but he just needed some time," Ariana stated dryly.

I could tell she was trying to hide her pain, to be strong, but soon her facial features broke the shield of strength and weakened until she was sobbing again, her hands trembling over her tear-streaked face.

"Why?" she rasped into my shoulder. "Why is he doing this to me? To our girls? Do you know how many nights I've had to come up with stories and lies for him so that Josette and Phoebe wouldn't worry about their father or think he'd abandoned them?"

"Too many to count," I assumed, squeezing her hand.

"I lied to my _children_, Hermione," Ariana said.

"I know, honey, I know. It's not your fault. You needed to."

She shook her head.

"I know he wanted a separation, but I never thought he'd actually leave," she whispered.

I held her for at least another thirty minutes, allowing her to cry until she had no more strength to continue. When finally she could compose herself enough to go into public, I took her home. After making her two full mugs of tea, letting her cry on my shoulder for another hour, and telling Josette and Phoebe that their mother was just really sick, I left Ariana alone in her room to ease her pain with sleep.

And all the while, I kept thinking the same thing Ariana had.

_I never thought he would actually leave._


	19. The Angel Of Destiny

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter.

A/N: Ah! Thanks, again and again, to all those who reviewed and read. I hope the next chapter is to everyone's pleasing. Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

The Angel Of Destiny

"Where is he?" grumbled Harry, checking his wristwatch.

"Harry," I soothed, "he's ten minutes late. Calm down."

"He's _late_, Hermione," argued Harry, ripping apart his hamburger bun in his stress. "If he doesn't show up soon, it will force _me_ to be late. I don't have the luxury of taking an hour lunch break like he does. I have work that needs to be—"

"And a good afternoon to you, too," came a voice from behind us.

I turned in my seat and instantly felt a smile warm my features. Draco returned my smile and sat down in the empty seat next to me.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized, dropping his napkin in his lap. "I was in a meeting; it took longer than expected."

When Harry sighed, Draco raised his eyebrows at me knowingly.

"Stressful day?" Draco assumed and I nodded, a frown itching at the corners of my lips.

"We've been having some trouble with the Dark Marked," I explained, twisting the cap off of my water bottle and taking a small swig.

"It's completely out of hand," sighed Harry, rubbing his temples. "All the false alerts that have been flooding the area are ridiculous."

"It really makes no sense," I agreed and paused as the waiter took Draco's order. When the waiter was finally gone and Draco's attention was back on the two of us, I continued. "Why? I mean, yes, I understand that Vlaskiv's sentencing would have upset the Dark Marked and caused an uproar, but I feel like there's something more to the way they are directing us. Something we're missing."

"You think they're setting us up?" Harry wondered and I shrugged my shoulders, taking a small bite out of my chicken avocado wrap.

"It's quite possible," I said. "The alerts have _all_ been false. We immediately jump the gun on any trace of dark magic, but once we get there, there's nothing. Don't you find that a little odd?"

Harry threw me a withering glare.

"Of _course_ I find that a little _odd_," he snipped. "We've been following their trail for nearly a week now and still we haven't caught a single Dark Marked."

"All I'm saying is that I think there's a reason we aren't finding any Dark Marked," I continued, ignoring his sharp tone. "I feel like we're just falling into a trap, and I wouldn't be surprised if they're going right under our noses and planning something much bigger than we think. Now that Vlaskiv is in prison, they have an even bigger reason to cause some real problems. Problems bigger than occasional raids on villages and pillaging neighborhoods."

"You don't think they're forming an uprising, are you?" Harry wondered.

"Why not?" I said. "Isn't it always the calmest before the storm?"

We were quiet for some time, both not knowing what to say.

"I don't think it's just a normal uprising," Draco mused suddenly.

"What?" both Harry and I said, turning to stare at him.

"The Dark Marked are less organized than the Death Eaters were, since all they cared about was blind revenge upon those they reasoned responsible for Voldemort's downfall. However, now they have reason to join together as one evil force to take out the bigger opponent. Now, it isn't just about Muggles and Muggleborns," Draco explained. "Now, it's about exacting their revenge upon our Ministry, the Aurors, and every good force in the entire world, slowly taking us _all_ out, one by one, until it's just them and those who do their bidding."

"But how would they do that?" I asked.

"Simple," Draco said. "Blackmail, brainwash, form allies with, or demolish other ministries, other countries, other governments of power. The more power they can warp to be on their side, the more ours is likely to fall."

"Solid point," Harry whispered, impressed. "But how can we stop this from happening?"

"It's already happening," Draco announced gravely. "That's what my meeting was about. The problems in France are getting worse. The French minister was one of our strongest allies, and now we fear that he's being taken over or controlled by some kind of dark force. We believe the Dark Marked might be trying to take out the French minister and turn him against our ministry."

"But if that's true that could cause a war," I gasped, startled. "And if that happens, other countries will have Dark forces on their sides."

"Not just any war, Hermione," Harry stated, his jaw setting. "A global war."

With steely eyes, he stared at Draco.

"We have to do something about this," he said and Draco nodded.

"I've been charged with trying to win the French minister over. I could try and help your department," Draco proposed.

"That sounds perfect."

We ate our meals in silence for several more minutes, each of us probably trying to figure out something to do to help the impending dangers looming over our heads. Just as I finished my meal, the bell over the cafe door jingled, alerting us that someone had just arrived. Peering over Draco's shoulder, I saw Ginny and Ariana heading for the table.

"She looks like death warmed over," Draco muttered beside me, referring undoubtedly to Ariana.

Ariana, who usually looked so beautiful and fresh, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes and hair full of bounce, looked now like she'd been chilled in a freezer for a month. Her hair fell in clumps around her ashen face, she had a rather large run in her pantyhose, and her lips were chapped. Dark circles hung beneath her vacant eyes and she trailed behind Ginny with timid, slow steps.

I noticed that Ginny seemed in better spirits than she had been in this morning. Lately, I felt like Ginny and I weren't spending spending as much time together as we'd like, and since I had an hour to spare before going to work, I decided I'd stop by and see how she was doing. Nearly seconds after she'd opened the door, she sprinted for the bathroom. She was in such disarray that when the expensive rhinestone reading glasses she wore when she wrote her columns for the Daily Prophet clattered to the floor, she didn't even pause to pick them up. Instead, pale and shaking, she tore through the hallway and slammed the bathroom door shut. Minutes later, after she emerged, she seemed a bit better, but I made sure that she took a break from her column to rest before I left.

"Good afternoon, all," Ginny greeted happily, coming to stand beside Harry. With a smirk she bent down and kissed Harry full fledged on the mouth.

"What in Merlin's name has gotten into you?" Harry gasped as they parted, winded.

"Can't a loving wife kiss her wonderful, sexy husband?" she purred in response, trailing her fingers along his jaw, visibly making him shudder.

"Yes, but_—_"

Before Harry could retort, Ginny's lips captured his again. I swallowed at their incredible public display of affection, my eyes darting over the cafe to see if anyone was bothered. No one, apart from the individuals at our table, seemed to notice. When Draco cleared his throat, I nearly jumped out of my skin, feeling heat rising to my face as I noticed him_—_I mean, really _noticed_ him_—_for practically the first time that day.

"Did you know that pregnancy makes you more horny?" Ginny whispered, playfully nipping at Harry's ear.

Harry flushed beet red, his glasses foggy and askew.

"Er_—_it does?"

"At least this one does."

"Ginny, this isn't the place_—_"

Ignoring him, Ginny covered his mouth with hers again, kissing him deeply.

"_Oi_! Get a room!" Draco cried, causing several people to turn in their seats.

"I should probably go. Ari and I have plans," Ginny explained with a reluctant sight, turning to face me. "I'll meet you at Diagon Alley after work?"

"Sounds great," I replied, throwing a concerned glance at the catatonic Ariana.

Before she and Ariana left, Ginny kissed Harry briefly on the cheek, and said, "Happy anniversary, darling."

Once the door to the cafe closed behind them, Harry jolted, as if just realizing what Ginny had said.

"Bloody hell! I've just realized! It's our anniversary!" he exclaimed, causing Draco to erupt in boisterous laughter.

"Good going, Potter," Draco cracked. "Way to forget your own anniversary."

"What do I get her?" Harry asked, panicked. "Oh, Merlin, Hermione, help. You always manage to figure something good out."

Flustered, I stammered, "I_—_um_—_well, you can get her flowers_—_her favorite is purple orchids, right? Or perfume or_—_or chocolate. Every woman loves chocolate."

"I got her perfume the last two times, Mione!"

"Oh, mate, you didn't," disapproved Draco, shaking his head.

"What? What's the problem?" Harry wondered.

"Mate, you _never_ get a woman the same gift you got her on your last anniversary. It gives the impression that one) you're a daft idiot with no brains and no emotions, two) you forgot and got the cheapest or most familiar or safe thing you could get her, or three) you don't care about her enough to surprise her. It takes away all the suspense and romance of the whole night."

Unbelieving, I gawked at Draco for several silent minutes, awed by him.

"Well, what do you reckon I do?" Harry asked, completely frustrated.

Draco snorted, as if this was the simplest thing in the world and Harry was being mentally constipated.

"_Woo_ her, you so. _Romance_ your wife for a change," he answered. "The anniversary is a night that is all about bringing back the heat and the sparks. Do something unexpected. Show her that you aren't a stiff, that you still find her as ravishing as when you first married her. You _are_ still turned on by your wife, right? Because if not that could be a problem and we'd have to_—_"

"_Yes_, I am still turned on by my _wife_, you disgusting prat!" Harry snapped.

"Touchy, touchy." Draco smirked. "Do you want my help or not?"

"No, I don't want your bloody he_—_okay, yes, I do. I need it desperately," Harry sighed, returning from beet red to his normal coloring. "What should I get her?"

"Nothing."

"_Nothing_?" Harry and I both exclaimed.

"You're mad!" Harry declared. "You married a madman, Hermione!"

"Oh, shut up and let me continue. You shouldn't _get_ her anything," Draco said. "Book a weekend at the grandest hotel in London_—_I can get you a discount if you'd like; I know the perfect place-take her to the finest restaurant in the area, order champagne for a change, have her dress up in her best dress-it makes them feel beautiful and you're much more likely to get laid_—_"

At this, I gasped and aimed a kick at Draco. Much to my annoyance, he artfully dodged my kick and quickly kissed the hand I attempted to swat him with.

"_—_and take her to the cinema or the theater for a showing of her choice, if you want to go all out," he finished.

"Hermione, your thoughts?" Harry asked, looking for my opinion.

"I_—_erm_—_definitely do what Draco suggested."

_Do what Draco suggested,_ I thought. _How in the world did Draco Malfoy just come up with a better way to romance a woman than me? I'm a _woman, _for crying out loud!_

Draco sighed, checked his watch, and said, "I've got to run. I'll see you at home later?"

I nodded. "Ginny and I are going to Diagon Alley for a bit, after work. I'm probably going to be at the Burrow with the boys after that. If you wanted, you could join us_._"

"It sounds like a plan," he said softly with a smile, bending down to kiss me on the cheek. "I'll see you then."

Bringing a shaking hand to the spot Draco's lips had touched, I smiled and then quickly shook my head, wondering what on earth was happnening to me. Wondering why, for the first time, I couldn't explain what I was feeling.

* * *

I stepped into my house from the fireplace and instantly noticed the mouthwatering scent of seasoned pork chop, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Dennis was sitting on the couch with a plate in his lap, chewing the beautifully scented food.

"Smells delightful," I commented, brushing off any traces of soot.

"Pam is a sensational chef," Dennis said, forking another hefty amount of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"Oh, please."

Pamela entered the room, blushing as she came to sit next to Dennis on the couch, a plate of her own resting in her lap.

"She's being modest," garbled Dennis, stuffing his already full mouth with a large slice of pork chop.

"You'd think he hadn't had a meal in years," Pamela joked, gazing fondly at Dennis. "What are you doing home so early, Hermione? It's barely two thirty; you're not due back for another hour."

"I took off a little early," I explained. "Ginny and I are headed to Diagon Alley and the Burrow, so I decided to stop by and grab the boys. Where are they?"

"They just finished the last of their studies. They're playing in the back yard."

"Not anywhere near my blackberry bush, I hope," I huffed, tearing over to the large windows and throwing back the curtains to inspect my garden. "You know how Haden likes to pop those berries in his mouth without adequately washing them."

"I warned him that they are off bounds," laughed Pam, shaking her head. She seemed happier than usual; I had to admit I liked to see her smile.

"Oh, Dennis," I said, spinning around as a thought flooded my mind. "Whenever you have the time, Harry wants to speak with you about the Dark Marked. He'll fill you in about all of it later tonight, if you're available."

"Sure, absolutely," agreed Dennis, swallowing.

With a smile, I departed from the den and threw open the back door.

"Haden, Jasper. Time to go!" I called and almost immediately was tackled by the two boys.

"Mummy!" Haden greeted happily and I bent down to scoop him up in my arms.

As they pulled me to the fireplace, excited to see Ginny and her kids, I couldn't help but feel a pang in my heart. I was suddenly very aware that my boys were growing up. Aware of their future, of all the things they would have to face, all the trials they would have to endure. Right now they were so sweet and innocent, so happy about simple things. Soon, though, they would become teenagers and I would be sending them off to Hogwarts, and then before I knew it I would be attending weddings, seeing the births of their children_—_my grandchildren.

Life wasn't slowing down for me in the very least, and they were growing up _too fast_. My heart suddenly ached for all the time I'd lost with them, all the things I couldn't remember. I'd missed so many years of their lives_—_how could I afford to lose any more?

"Mummy, come on!" Haden urged, dragging me into the fireplace and whisking my panicked thoughts away.

We soon arrived at Diagon Alley and met up with Ginny at the ice cream parlor. Upon seeing Lily, Jasper immediately went red and shuffled his feet. Little James, who had been crawling about, giggling, reached up to Haden, wanting to be played with. Haden sank to his knees, smiling, and began to play peek-a-boo with James. The sight of it all made me smile.

"Hey, stranger," greeted Ginny, giving me a hug. "Sorry about this morning. I hadn't expected to get sick so suddenly."

"Well, it makes sense now that I know you're pregnant," I laughed.

"So, any ideas what I should get Harry for our anniversary?" Ginny wondered and I snorted.

"You're almost as bad as him," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Try looking in the Quidditch shop. You know he loves anything that relates to broomsticks."

"Well, I got him something there last year, but he's not picky and they always have new things. I'll start there," she reasoned. "Oh, I was going to tell you. They opened up a new bookstore just down the lane. You should check it out."

"Tell you what," I proposed, "you go get Harry a present and I'll check out the bookstore. We'll meet there when you're done?"

"Good plan," she said and hauled off James and Lily.

"Can we go with them, Mum?" asked Jasper, gazing longingly at the Quidditch shop.

"Please, Mummy?" pleaded Haden, tugging on my blouse.

"Oh, fine," I gave in, rolling my eyes. "But make sure you listen to Auntie Ginny and do everything she says. And stay close!"

I watched them chase after Ginny and disappear into the store. The book store was a small and cramped two story building with wooden floors and burgundy wallpaper, owned by an elderly wizard with poor eyesight. The shelves were absolutely stuffed to the brim with books, all of which were in no specific order, which made finding certain books incredibly hard to find.

Toward the back of the shop I found an old clearance section_—_two large wooden crates piled high with books that seemed permanently coated with dust and priced absurdly low. I figured I might be able to find something amusing to read, at a more than reasonable price, and immediately began digging through the crates. I found more than a fair amount of old books ranging from a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ from 1937 to a used copy of_ Voyages With Vampire__s _by the fraud Gilderoy Lockheart, whom I had once fancied for his knowledge and experience_—_and good looks_. _

Amid the pile of age old spell books and wizard lore, I found a rather interesting book. Attracted to it for some unexplainable reason, I lifted it carefully from the pile and gave a large puff of air, dispelling a mountain of dust from the cover. The cover of the book was a faded jungle green color with intricate fairies, sprites, gnomes, vampires, and angels hand painted into the fabric.

"No title? Well, that's odd," I thought aloud and turned the cover over.

Inside the storybook I found stories of all kinds of folklore and fables. I was nearly halfway through skimming through the book when I happened across the title page for one of the stories and my heart literally stopped beating.

"_The Angel Of Destiny__—__A Tale Of Fate, Hope, And New Beginnings_," I read in a hoarse whisper.

Amazed and incredibly curious, I continued to read. The tale described the story of the Angel of Destiny, a powerful sorceress of light and goodness who appeared to individuals, Muggle and magical alike, in the form of dreams to help guide them on their destined path.

Normally, my reaction would be to call the story a load of rubbish and toss the old book back into the crate, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had to know more. Plus, I figured Jasper might like the story about the little vampire Fredrick. With that in mind, I hurried back to the front of the store and placed the book on the front counter.

"Ah, I remember this one," said the old wizard dreamily as he wrapped it up for me. "It's a good one. My wife's a Muggle, you know, and she grew up with some of these stories too. It's a great way to bring both magic and non-magic children together."

"I couldn't agree more," I said, offering him a smile and paying him for the book, thinking of how my own mother used to tell me the story of the Angel of Destiny. I had to wonder if someone in her family had read her this very same book before.

The bell above the door jingled as I exited the shop and made my way out into the calm streets of Diagon Alley. About halfway down the block I spotted Ginny and the children exiting the Quidditch shop and hurried over to them.

"We were just coming to retrieve you," laughed Ginny in surprise, caught off guard by my sudden appearance. "I thought you would've spent ages inside that little shop. Did you not like it?"

"No, on the contrary, I found some things that I actually might come back for sometime," I expressed.

"What'd you get, Mum?" asked Jasper, gesturing to the plastic bag in my hand.

"Oh, just a little book. Maybe I'll read some of it to you tonight," I told him and then returned my attention back to Ginny. "Did you find anything for Harry?"

"I did, actually, but it's super top secret," she told me with a sly smirk. "Any ideas of what he's got planned for tonight, Mione?"

At this, I bit my lip so that I would not reveal my knowledge of Harry's plans. After all, if I shared the big surprise with her, she would no longer be surprised. And that was that best part.

"No, not at all."

Once we arrived at the Burrow, Ginny swung open the front door without bothering to knock_—_causing Mrs. Weasley to nearly have heart failure_—_and proceeded to tell everyone in the house how her day was.

"Mum, do you still have my blue dress_—_the one your friend Linda bought me?" Ginny wondered, already halfway up the stairs to her old room.

"I'm sure I do, Ginerva," Mrs. Weasley replied, hand still clutching her heart. "I still can't believe that after having two children, she's still able to squeeze into her old outfits."

I smiled affectionately at Mrs. Weasley and we embraced, chatting for several minutes while Haden, Lily, Jasper, and James all played in the adjoining room. Suddenly, there was a crash from upstairs, followed by the familiar shouting of the two youngest Weasley children.

"Oh, good Lord, I knew this would happen," Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly. "Ginny and Ron! You are no long children and I will not tolerate this treatment of each other any longer? Do you hear me?"

When all that followed was silence, Mrs. Weasley huffed triumphantly.

"Do they do that often?" I wondered.

"Every single time Ginny visits lately," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Ever since Ron and Ariana_—_"

There was a loud beeping from inside the kitchen and Mrs. Weasley perked up.

"Are you staying for dinner, Hermione?" she asked and I licked my lips. It smelled delicious, but I really wasn't very hungry. Mostly, I was just tired.

"Well, it depends on what Draco decides," I answered honestly. "I know that the kids are staying with you and Arthur tonight, and I appreciate that, thank you. But we might just want to have the evening to ourselves."

"Busy day?" she guessed.

"Busy _week_, more like," I corrected with a small laugh.

"Well, I won't be offended, either way," she assured me and gave me a large hug. "And we're always happy to see the children. We're all family here."

"Thank you, Molly," I said and she smiled again before setting off to check on her cooking.

"She loves you, you ponce!" Ginny cried, her voice closer now. "Still, even after all that you've done!"

There were loud footsteps on the stairs, indicating someone's descent.

"Stay out of it, Ginny," growled Ron, appearing on the bottom stairs. He turned around and shouted up the staircase_—_to Ginny no doubt. "Do you hear me? _Stay out of it!_"

Awkwardly, I cleared my throat. Ron spun about, his eyes widening at the sight of me.

"H_—_Hermione," Ron stammered. "I_—_I didn't see you there. What are you doing here?"

"I came to drop Haden and Jasper off for the night," I replied slowly, watching him carefully.

His red hair was like dull, fading embers, like a fire that had lost its spark. His shirt wasn't tucked, one pant leg rolled up slightly, his belt unbuckled, one sock on his right foot. His face was sallow and he had dark circles under his eyes. He didn't look quite like his corpse-like wife, but he certainly looked unhealthy, unhappy. Like he'd been drowning himself in the bottle once again.

"You're a prick," snapped Ginny, interrupting our awkward exchange with a flourish as she materialized on the bottom stair next to her brother. She gave him a small shove, dressed now in a beautiful dark blue dress. She turned her eyes to me and nodded. "I'll call you later?"

"Have a good evening," I told her and watched as she slammed the front door behind her.

Sighing, Ron tripped over to the couch and plopped down, throwing his feet atop the coffee table. I crinkled my nose in annoyance_—_I very much disliked such impoliteness. I involuntarily took a step away from Ron, my heart thumping hard in my chest, my palms sweating. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley took that time to reappear.

"Good grief, Ronald, get your dirty feet off of my table this instant," sniped Mrs. Weasley. "Hermione, would you like a cookie?"

She offered me the plate, which I declined and passed to Ron.

"One, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley warned as the redhead reached for three.

"Fine."

His hand retreated with one chocolate chip cookie.

"Well, I'm going to check on Arthur. He stayed home today; he's not feeling well," Mrs. Weasley explained.

"Oh, is he alright?"

"Yes, just fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Don't worry."

"If it's too much trouble, I can take the boys home_—_"

"Don't you dare," quipped Mrs. Weasley, wagging her finger. "Those children are never trouble, especially compared to the devils I raised."

After Mrs. Weasley disappeared up the stairs, there was a long silence on my part.

"I thought you were just dropping off the kids," said Ron.

"I_—_I was."

"Then, why are you still here?"

"That was a little rude, Ronald," I scoffed.

"Sorry, I'm not in the best spirits as of late," Ron sighed.

"Maybe because you've had too much spirits," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," I covered quickly. "I'm just waiting for Draco. He said he'd meet me here after work."

"Oh."

Again, an awkward silence followed our conversation. I sighed, checking the window and peering out into the countryside. Still no sign of Draco. The clock on the mantel chimed a singsong tune, alerting me of the hour. It was four thirty. Draco was late.

"He must be in another meeting," I rationalized as I turned away from the window, letting the drapes slip through my fingers.

"You don't have to make excuses for him," Ron told me, inspecting his fingers.

"I'm not making excuses," I protested.

"Oh, really?" he laughed darkly. "You've always been a rotten liar."

"So have you, if I remember correctly," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

He sighed deeply.

"I don't mean to pick fights," he said, bowing his head. "I just can't do anything right anymore."

For some reason, seeing him like this, so despondent and down, made my heart twinge. I wished to help him, not blame him. Shaking my head and letting out a breath, I took a few timid steps toward the couch he was stretched out on and slowly sat down next to him.

"Don't be like that," I said. "You can't blame yourself for everything that happens."

"Why not? That seems to make everyone happy."

"By everyone you really mean Ari, don't you?" I guessed.

He flinched upon hearing her name.

"I just need a break for a while," he sighed.

"Quite honestly, Ron," I started, "you don't need a break. You need to solve things and stop running away from them. You're a married man with a family and a job, a good life. If you want to keep that, you need to stop looking for an escape route whenever life throws a curve ball at you."

"You don't know anything," Ron snapped.

"Okay," I said. "My apologies, then. I was just trying to help."

Exhaling heavily, Ron shook his head and reached over, gripping my hand in his. I could feel the callouses on his sweaty palms, see the bruises on his red knuckles_—_probably from bar fights_—_and the dirt beneath his fingernails.

"Can we talk about something else, Hermione?"

He sounded so desperate, so sad.

"Sure," I gave in, stroking his hand comfortingly. "Like what?"

"Anything," he said. "I haven't asked you about how you're doing. Has your memory come back yet?"

I bit my lip. "No."

"So, you don't remember anything about you and Mal_—_Draco?"

"Oh, Ron, no," I sighed, growing sad at the thought. "It's really horrible for him. I wish I could remember, but the last thing I remember is my wedding night to you."

Ron snorted, but upon seeing my serious, confused features, he crunched his eyebrows together.

"Our wedding night? Hermione, I think you might've mixed a few things up when you lost your memory," he said softly, squeezing my hand. "We never had a wedding night."

I pulled away slightly, to get a better view of him.

"What do you mean we never had a wedding night?" I whispered, growing agitated. I could still remember every feeling I had coursing through my body on that wedding night_—_how he abandoned me, how I kept trying to convince myself he was the one, how horrible I felt. "Of _course_ we had a wedding night. I was _theren.._ Ronald. You disappeared during our reception, got wasted on firewhiskey, and passed out in the elevator that Ginny, Harry, and I had to haul you into. You were too far gone to even...give me my bridal_..._night."

A loud spluttering noise erupted from his throat, like he was choking, and I turned to see him flushing bright red. His eyes were wide and glossy, as if he was in some faraway place, picturing it all. Bowing his head, he cleared his throat and scratched his neck.

"Hermione, I'm uh_—_we never got married. You walked out on me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm sure Ginny and Draco have told you," he said. "You didn't marry me. You called the wedding off and went to Europe and we ended our relationship. You kept talking about some angel of destiny. And the next thing I know, you come home with Draco Malfoy tied to your hip."

I shook my head, remembering what Ginny had told me and all of the things I had seen in the pensive. It was all true. I had really done that to Ron. I'd really walked out. For some reason, I kept thinking to myself that I had been married to Ron, that I had a wedding night with him. I specifically remembered that.

"But that's not possible. I _remember__—_" 

It was no use. By the pain I saw in his blue eyes, I knew he was telling me the truth, that he really believed I walked out on him before we got married. Could it be true? Was I just imagining my wedding night to him?

_My head hurts,_ I thought.

"Oh, Ron," I sighed, squeezing his hand so that he knew I was there for him, "that must've been hard for you."

"Believe me, it was," he grunted. He took a slow breath, turning to face me with pleading orbs of ocean blue. "And looking back on it now, I really wish I could have done things differently so that things between us wouldn't have ended so bad." Heat was radiating off of him, suffocating me. Desperately, I attempted to remove my hand from his, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, but he wouldn't release it.

_This is wrong_, I thought and my stomach wrenched in agreement. _I need to leave._

"I won't lie_—_I've been thinking about it a lot lately," he said, his voice more urgent, as if he sensed me retreating and was afraid to let go again, "especially since you've lost your memory."

_This is bad! Move, Hermione,_ my conscience screamed. I tugged again on my slippery hand. It budged a fraction, but still it wasn't enough.

"Ron," I squeaked.

"If I hadn't been such a prat," he cut me off, "we might've had a happy life together! I could have given you that bridal night_—_and_—_and you would never have married _him__—_"

"But she _did_ marry me."

In unison, Ron and I whipped around. Immediately, it felt as if someone had shoved a burning hot thousand pound weight down my esophagus and into my stomach. My insides squirmed and jolted, my heart floundering in chaos. Guilt riddled through me once I saw the expression in his cold gray eyes. They were shining like silver lining in a snowstorm, full of the rage and heartache of a thousand pillars of hell.

"Malfoy!" an alarmed Ron snarled.

"D_—_Draco." I tugged on my hand again, but Ron kept hold, gripping me tighter until I howled verbally in protest. "Ron, please."

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Ron snapped.

"For your information, Weasley," Draco responded, his voice like an arctic wind, "I was invited."

"Get out of my house."

Draco's eyes flashed, narrowing into reptilian slits. "Technically this is no longer your house. You have one of your own. You share it with your own wife and your children. Or did you forget that you still had a wife when you were hitting on mine?"

"Draco, it's not_—_"

"I just said goodbye to the boys. They're playing outside, thankfully," he snapped, turning to face me finally, but I could tell by the way he quickly averted his gaze from my pleading eyes and down to my hand clutched in Ron's, that I had finally done it. I'd succeeded in breaking his heart completely.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, his voice hoarse and rough, like it was a trial talking to me.

"Yes, of course," I whispered quickly, nearly jumping to my feet in my haste to leave. "Just let me grab my purse."

"You just _got_ here!" protested Ron, grabbing my arm and yanking me back.

"Ron, let me go, please," I begged, noticing how my voice broke, how I sounded close to tears.

"You can't just expect me to—"

Suddenly, a pale hand snapped forward and locked around Ron's muscular arm. Ron's nostrils flared, as if he had just inhaled something repulsive, and he turned his darkening eyes on Draco.

"_Don't_ touch me," growled Ron, his fist clenching.

"Don't touch my wife," Draco hissed, inching toward Ron, his fingers visibly tightening in a death grip on Ron's arm.

"I can do whatever the hell I bloody well please."

"_Not_ when it involves _my wife_!" vociferated Draco, his sudden shout echoing throughout the entire house.

"She's not one of your damn possessions, Malfoy!" roared Ron, shoving Draco.

"Stop it," I choked, horrified at the scene unfolding before me. "Please, Ron, you're being absurd. He loves me_—_"

"He never deserved you, Hermione!" bellowed Ron, glaring at me.

"You_—_No. You need to stop_—_"

"Well, she's not married to you, is she, Weasel?" Draco reminded him with a twisted smirk. "No. She chose _me_. She walked out on _you_, not me. What we have is stronger than anything you could ever dream of."

"Draco, stop_—_"

"You're just a pathetic, disgusting drunk too afraid to face the life he has, so instead you have to retreat back to wanting a happily married woman who threw you away because you treated her like dung."

Ron was trembling now, shaking so much I feared he might explode.

"Now, you're miserable because she doesn't want you," Draco spat. "_No one_ wants you."

"Ron, no!"

But it was too late. Ron's fist snapped back and plowed powerfully, full force, into Draco's porcelain face. There was a sickening crack and a steady stream of dark blood began to dribble from my husband's nose. I screamed, my throat burning like I'd just inhaled forty gallons of firewhiskey. I tore forward, reaching desperately for Draco, trying to rip Ron_—_ whose larger, more muscular body was now pinning Draco to the wood floor, pummeling him into nothingness with his bloodied fist_—_away from him.

"What in Merlin's good name is going on?" came Mrs. Weasley's voice from the stairwell.

"Did I hear Draco?" asked Mr. Weasley. When he entered the den, he shouted, "What's the meaning of this? Enough!"

"Fight_—_back_—_you filthy_—_coward!" Ron shouted, his fist connecting with Draco's jaw each time. But Draco remained still, unmoving, flinching and crying out. I couldn't bear seeing him so hurt. Something inside me broke as Draco howled out my name.

"Hermione, go_—_" he rasped, before Ron's fist pummeled him again.

"Stop it!" I sobbed pleadingly, tugging on Ron's arm, trying to free Draco. "Please, stop! Please!"

In response, Ron angrily flung me off of him, causing me to fly into the coffee table, which promptly flipped over, shattering the flower vase that once sat atop it.

"Arthur, do something!" demanded Mrs. Weasley.

"Ronald Billius Weasley, that's_ enough_!"

As if noticing everyone for the first time, Ron ceased his motions and blinked up at his father. The entire house was silent. He turned slowly to me, his lips trying to form words, but I shook my head, retreating farther into the mess he'd made, cutting my palms on stray fragments of glass. Seeing me covered in broken glass and daisies must have sparked something within the drunken Ron, and he quickly retreated from Draco, horrified with what he'd just done.

Instantly, I sprinted toward Draco, wrapping myself around him, my chest wracking in hysterical sobs. Mrs. Weasley was at my side in seconds, soothing me, rubbing my shoulder, combing my hair as she, too, cried. Mr. Weasley gripped Ron by the shoulder and roughly shoved him backward, pinning him into the wall. "You're going to calm down this instant."

"I'm so sorry_—_so sorry," sniffled Mrs. Weasley as she helped Draco to his unstable feet. "We_—_We thought he'd stopped drinking_—_we thought that we could help_—_"

I felt the need to comfort her, but couldn't find the words to do so. To my surprise, Draco lifted a weak hand and croaked, "Don't be sorry, Mrs. Weasley, please. It's not your fault."

Pain pricked my eyes as more tears continued to flow down my cheeks like a waterfall of acid, burning my skin.

"Don't leave," Ron begged. "I'm_—_"

"_Don't_ apologize to me, you insolent, pathetic, drunken _bastard_," I spat. "I will _never_ forgive you for this."

Of course, I didn't _really_ mean that. I loved Ron. I'd find a way to forgive him somehow. But not today. Not with this fire burning inside me, electrifying my every fiber. Not when Draco was in such pain because of him. Because of me.

"I have to go," was all I could manage to say to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before Draco and I stepped into the summer evening.

"Don't leave the boys here," Draco rasped. "Not with him in this state."

"Okay, I'll get them," I vowed and returned minutes later with the boys.

"Daddy!" cried Haden.

"What _happened_?" Jasper gasped, running for his father. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sport, I'm fine," Draco said, but not even Haden believed him.

"Don't worry," I whispered to the boys, stroking their hair. "Daddy's going to be okay. We're going to take care of him."

Draco blinked at me with swollen eyes, trusting me despite how hurt he was with me. I swallowed my guilt, my pain, my pride and kissed his bruised cheek.

"Does he need the doctor?" asked Haden, his lip quivering.

"If you take me to the hospital, I swear I'll kill you," Draco barked at me, and despite myself I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob to me.

"No," I promised. "We're going home."


	20. Back To Where We Started?

Disclaimer: Nothing from Harry Potter, in any shape or form, belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: First of all, I want to express to all my readers that I do not hate Ron Weasley, in any sense. I just don't believe he and Hermione are the best for each other. No, he is not a bad person. He's a man who is in a very dark place—first, because of the war, and now because of selfishness, stress with work, and wishing to fix things in the past (which stops him from progressing in the future)—and finds the only solution to his problems in alcohol.

Also, I apologize if my writing is a bit choppy or some things confuse you—it's been a very long time since I've updated this story, since I've been very ill and very busy. If you have questions feel free to shoot me an email and I will answer them as quickly as I can.

Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Back To Where We Started?

The first thing I heard when Draco and I arrived home was the sound of Pamela and Dennis laughing in the kitchen. It was such a relieving sound, hearing someone happy, compared to the fighting I just witnessed only minutes ago. I quickly instructed the boys to go upstairs and they went without a fuss, knowing I was not in any temperament to be tampered with right now. Leaving Pamela and Dennis to a few more minutes to themselves before I enlisted their help, I assisted Draco to the couch to fetched him a pillow to rest his head.

"I'll grab you some water," I told him softly and hurried out of the den before he could so much as blink.

But it appeared I had horrible timing, because I nearly sprinted into the kitchen just in time to witness Dennis cup Pamela's cheek and press his lips against hers. Feeling incredibly embarrassed at almost ruining their moment, I tried my best to move back into the den without making much noise, and then pressed myself against the wall of the den, breathing in deeply. Could I do nothing right today?

_Oh, stop it,_ my thoughts chastised me, _you sound like Ron._

After several more seconds, I decided it was time to break up the love fest in the kitchen.

"Ahem," I said as I entered the kitchen.

Pamela and Dennis broke apart and she immediately blushed. Dennis, on the other hand, gave me a cheeky grin and greeted me with a wave of his fingers.

"Evening, Hermione," he said and I rolled my eyes.

"Good evening, Dennis," I said in return. "I was just coming in to get Draco a glass of water."

"We weren't expectin' you back for a while," Pamela confessed, "so I went ahead and made the two of us dinner. We've already eaten."

"That's fine," I replied, food being the least of my worries at that moment, "I'm not very hungry."

"Well, there's still food in the refrigerator," Pamela insisted.

"Thank you. I'll heat some up for Draco and the boys in a few minutes," I said and then hurried to get Draco a glass of water.

"I thought the boys were staying with Molly for the weekend," Dennis said and I sighed.

"Yes, they were, but they aren't anymore. It's a rather long story."

"Are you alright?" Pamela wondered, worry etched across her pretty features.

"No, not really," I confided. "I actually need your help. Can you get your medical kit and meet me in the front room?"

"Is everything okay?" Pamela called after me as I sped out of the kitchen, sloshing water down my front in my haste.

"Pamela, please!" I snapped, taking a seat next to Draco on the couch. "Here you are."

"Thank you," he rasped, greedily accepting the drink.

"Merlin, it looks like he's going to need something stronger than water, in my opinion," Dennis commented, emerging from the kitchen with Pamela.

"What happened?" Pamela shrieked, rushing over to Draco and slapping her medical kit on the coffee table. "Who did this to you?"

"Ronald," I snarled.

Pamela turned toward me and swallowed, acknowledging my sour tone and thankfully dropping it. Dennis, however, did not get my hint.

"You mean Ron Weasley? Blimey, it's been a long time. How is he?"

"Not now, Dennis," Pamela whispered.

"What?"

"Draco and Ron had a bit of a row," I ground out.

"A row? That does not look like the effects of a _row_," Dennis said, gesturing to Draco's already bruising face. "It looks like he was clobbered by a troll."

In turn, Draco groaned as Pamela pressed a wet cloth to his face. She uncorked a bottle of ointment and poured the substance onto a rather large cut across his cheek, causing him to hiss and reach for my hand. I squeezed his fingers, letting him know I was there, wishing I could take away his pain.

"Mummy, I'm hungry," Haden called from upstairs and Jasper joined in with agreement.

I was torn and I knew that Draco saw it in my eyes, because he pulled his hand away from mine and nodded toward the kitchen.

"Go," he told me. "I'll be fine."

I nodded and tore away from the couch, knowing that if I didn't leave now I wouldn't be able to leave at all. I was a wreck as I clanked pots and pans around, heating up the leftover salmon, corn, and rice. After fixing a quick salad and pouring a glass of milk for Haden and Jasper, I set the table and called the boys down to eat. By the time Draco, Haden, Jasper, and I were all seated around the table, Draco's face was looking a bit better. Pamela and Dennis decided to join the family, just to talk since they'd already eaten, and I was thankful they were there to keep Haden and Jasper preoccupied.

Draco and I, however, sat in stony silence next to each other, neither of us daring to say another word to each other. I could feel his emotions practically rolling off his body, stabbing mine repeatedly with the way he'd occasionally glance at me and then pretend he hadn't been looking. I felt horrible and on edge the entire dinner, feeling as if he might lash out at any moment—and when he never did, I felt even worse, almost wishing he _would_ confront me.

I sighed as he pushed his chair back, stood abruptly from the table, and disappeared into the kitchen. A few seconds later I could hear dishes clanking and the faucet running.

After all that we'd gone through the last few weeks, this is what we'd ultimately come to. Right back to where we started, pretending nothing was wrong, that the other didn't exist.

"I expect those plates to be clean, boys," I instructed, looking between my sons knowingly.

"But I hate fish," moaned Jasper.

"Do as Mummy says, okay, Jazzy?" Pamela whispered to the blond boy and he stared up at me with those large brown eyes, trying to read me like he always did when something was wrong.

With another sigh, I left the dining room and entered the kitchen. Draco was at the sink, furiously scrubbing the dishes by hand, even though we had a more than capable dishwasher available. I set my dirty dish beside him and waited for a response, but all he did was drop the plate into the soapsuds and continue scrubbing.

"Draco," I said, reaching out to him, but he jerked away. "Draco, will you look at me, please?"

In response, he plucked out a more than clean dish from the soapy water, rinsed it off, and smacked it on the counter with the pile of clean dishes waiting to be dried. Swallowing, I timidly picked up the rinsed dishes, grabbed a dish towel, and began drying them off and putting them away. But not even this calmed me. The silence was unbearable.

"Are you alright?" I finally asked.

"No, I'm not bloody all right," he flared, smacking a pot into the soapy sink.

I bit my lip, trying not to explode from the frustration I was feeling.

"Are you mad?"

"No, of course I'm not _mad_, Hermione," Draco said sarcastically. "I'm wonderful_. Just peachy._"

"Look, if this is about Ron—"

"Don't."

"I just don't understand why you two have such a problem with each other," I said and ignored his scoff. "After all this time, you still hate each other."

"Of course you don't understand," he snapped, shaking his head of blond hair. "You can't _remember_ anything or_ why_ I feel a certain way toward the bastard you call your best friend. You don't understand anything, because you still hate me."

"Draco, I do not hate you!" I spluttered, alarmed at how he was steadily growing more pink and his scrubbing of the dishes was growing more vigorous. "Stop being so absurd!"

"I can't even—_God_! I should have _known_ something like this was going to happen."

"Will you just talk to me? Honestly, what has gotten into you?"

In response, he clattered several more dirty dishes into the sink of soap and water.

"Stop doing that! You're going to break something!" I shouted, grabbing his arm, trying to force him to look at me.

"What's a damn dish's fate compared to the fate of our marriage?"

"The fate of our marriage?" I laughed incredulously."What the hell are you _on_—?"

"D—Daddy?" came a small voice from behind us. "Daddy, you mad?"

The door in my heart slammed shut, echoing inside me with a loud _bang_. Draco's hands clenched and his eyes jammed shut. He sucked in a deep breath and I gripped the counter so hard my knuckles turned to snow. I saw Draco steel himself and tried to do the same, knowing we had just made everything that much worse.

"No, bud. I'm not mad," Draco managed.

"Then why were you screaming at Mum?" Jasper demanded, coming to stand beside Haden.

"You fighting?" blubbered Haden, his eyes wide and terrified, as if this was the most horrifying thing he'd ever seen. "Mummy says it's bad to fight. Right, Mummy?"

I swallowed painfully.

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Your mum and I weren't fighting, Haden," Draco said. "We were just—"

_Smack._ I nearly jumped out of my skin as Jasper's little pale hand collided loudly with the counter.

"Don't lie to his face!" Jasper snarled, glaring icily at his father. "You were yelling at each other and I'm tired of you making excuses and lying about it. Why do you suddenly hate each other so much?"

His words brought me to my knees and I reached for him, shaking my head so furiously that my hair spun out in several directions. He yanked away from my touch as if I'd burned him, like I'd betrayed him. The accusation in his eyes was too much to bear and I felt my heart collapsing in on itself.

"Jazz, sweetie, we don't hate each other," I tried to explain. "Sometimes mummy's and daddy's argue, but it doesn't mean we hate each other. We care about each other very much."

"Stop it! _Stop_!" he screeched. "I don't believe you anymore! You never even _kiss_ anymore."

"Jasper Lucius Malfoy, you don't speak to your mother like that," Draco said, his tone authoritative and strong.

"Why not?" countered Jasper. "You do."

I reached for him again, needing him to understand, but he tore out of the kitchen and up the stairs before I even had time to draw breath. Haden, always one to follow in his brother's footsteps, stuck out his tongue at us and blew a large raspberry at the pair of us.

"Meanies!" he huffed and he, too, darted from the kitchen and upstairs.

It was strange how the defiance two innocent little boys could cause my heart to shatter so suddenly, so completely. I felt white hot tears prick inside my eyes as I desperately moved to follow after my sons, but Pamela shook her head, resting a firm hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"You would just upset them right now," she told me and I'd felt like she'd slapped me across the face.

"I'm their _mother_," I hissed, tearing her hand off of me.

"Look, Hermione, I'm not your enemy, so don't make me become one," she said determinedly. "I'll put them to bed tonight and talk to them, okay? You've got some more important issues to work out right now."

And, without waiting for me to protest, she and Dennis disappeared to comfort my children. Not in any condition to _talk_, I stomped up the stairs, threw open my bedroom door, and slammed it promptly behind me before changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. Mere seconds later I heard the quiet open and close of my bedroom door and realized that Draco had followed me. I averted my eyes as came to stand beside me. I was nearly done brushing my teeth when he finally spoke.

"We have to talk."

"I'm not interested in _talking_ to you," I stated blandly. "You're just going to scream at me again."

"No, I'm not."

"Well, then, I might scream at you, because frankly, you're behavior tonight was entirely out of line," I said, spitting out a glob of saliva and spearmint toothpaste into the sink and rinsing it away with water.

"I was hardly out of line," he scoffed. "I have every right to be angry—"

"_Oh_? And what reason is_ that_?" I snapped, smacking my toothbrush on the granite counter. "Because I was having a conversation with one of my best_ friends_?"

"Hermione, you _know_ how I feel about him and you alone together."

"No, I _don't_!" I insisted, growing more frustrated. "I'm missing _eleven years_ of my sodding _life_, Draco, so why don't you enlighten me?"

"You'd think that even a know-it-all like you would be able to piece together something like that," he said bitterly. "I mean, why on earth would a bloke like me be upset about walking in on my wife, all alone with her ex-fiancé, holding hands with him, inches away from his face, talking about their almost marriage and almost bridal night—_God!_ To think of him touching you in that way makes me _sick_."

"You're jealous! Of Ron?" I cried, trying not to rip out my hair at the absurdity of it all. "I'm your wife. I'm married to _you_. Why would you be jealous of him?"

"_Why_?" he laughed darkly. "Oh, I have no idea. Maybe because you've forgotten everything about me and how much I love you. You lost your memory, Hermione. How do you think I felt when I realized you were still in love with him and suddenly hated me again? It was the worst moment of my entire life, Hermione, because, for one small moment, I thought I would lose you to him. I thought you'd go flying out the door and beg for him to take you back and I knew he would take you back, especially now that his marriage is on the rocks and he's lonely and you've lost your memory and still might love him."

I swallowed. I never even thought of the situation like that. Sure, I knew it was hard for Draco, but I never knew he feared me returning to Ron.

"I don't love Ron," I said hollowly, bringing the question I'd been asking myself for several weeks now to truth. "Not anymore, anyway. Not since you. I don't know _what_ I'm feeling anymore. Imagine how it felt for me, Draco, waking up one day in bed with a man who used to mock me, poke _fun_ at me, make me feel _ugly_ every day, with no recollection of how I got there!"

I flopped onto the king-sized bed that Draco and I now shared and buried my head in my hands, nearing hysterics.

"And suddenly, everything is backwards," I continued. "Suddenly, you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, and I have two beautiful children that can't possibly _not_ be mine, and a wonderful house, a challenging and satisfying job, and a life I've always dreamed of. I wake up and everything is flipped upside down and my father is dead! Ron—the man I was set on spending an eternity with—is suddenly married to a woman I've never met who thinks we're best friends and I can't even hate her because she's a wonderful woman and loves Ron with more vibrancy and truth than I ever could, _and_ they have the most beautiful children. I'm suddenly opposite of everything I used to be expected to be! I'm a high esteemed Auror working for Harry, going on life-threatening missions. I had depression problems and nearly lost my child in a rough pregnancy. Suddenly, I've got two boys to take care of, who need me and look up to me."

It felt like I was swallowing knives, but I had to get it all out. He had to know—finally know—how I felt.

"I used to be sure of everything," I explained, my throat constricting tightly. "And now I'm sure of nothing. Just as I start to get used to the idea of having a life with you, of being close to you, of being a mother to Haden and Jasper, of being an Auror—just as I start feeling happy, feeling complete, like everything is right...suddenly, Ron pops back into my life, reminding me of what I once had, what I'm used to, what I should be doing, and somehow this all felt so...wrong. Like a dream out of my reach. Too good to be true, in a sense. Now, after everything, I'm not sure where I stand."

I could almost feel Draco bristling. He threw up his hands in frustration, raking his hands through is angel hair.

"You don't know where you stand," he repeated sardonically. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Have the last two months not meant anything to you at all? I _know_ you've felt the same things I have, and if a few lousy words from Ronald Weasley about your 'past' causes you to forget all of those feelings, then maybe this love isn't meant to be worked out. Maybe this really is the end."

"Maybe it is," I snapped, not comprehending why those words hurt me so much, why it was suddenly so hard to breathe. "After all, who are you even kidding? I'm not the girl you married and I'm so damn tired of _everyone_ expecting me to be her. That woman is _gone,_ lost. I'm not her and I'm not sure I even ever was."

"You aren't the girl you were before anymore, either," he reminded me bitingly.

"What's your bloody _point_?"

"My point is that I_ love_ you!" he roared, banging his fist down on the bathroom counter.

"_Stop it__!"_ I cried, springing to my feet. "Stop _saying_ that!"

"Saying what? That I love you?"

I set my jaw.

"Well, tough, 'Mione," he snarled. "Because I do. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, _I love you__!"_

"You're impossible!" I hollered."Just leave me alone!"

"Fine," he hissed, his eyes glinting in the bathroom's golden glow. "If that's what you really want, then fine, I'll leave. I'll leave because I love you and always will love you, even if you don't love me back, which I'm beginning to see will never happen again. And if that's what you want, then maybe everything I've been fighting for since you lost your memory isn't worth it. Maybe, just maybe, you're not really worth fighting for after all."

His words stung me and penetrated every vessel inside of me, bursting every vein until I bled from every pore and melted into a puddle of gruesome leftovers from what I once was.

"No," I spat, his words fueling my decision, "I know it's not worth it and I'm _glad_ Ron broke me out of this _horrible_ dream. The spell that forced me to somehow, impossibly fall in love with and marry and create a family with a monster like _you_ has finally worn off, because I now know that no matter _how_ much you claim to have changed it would _never_ work between us and I could _never_ love you because, truthfully, I really can't _stand you_!"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I grappled to retrieve them, but they hung in the air, suspended by my rage. My words bounced off of the walls and crashed right into Draco like an electric jolt. He took several steps backward.

And there it was. That look in his eyes. It was an expression that I had witnessed only once before, on the day I'd woken up next to him in bed, trapped in this bizarre reality where nothing made sense and yet everything seemed so right. And suddenly, I was back in that memory, back to that morning, replaying the moment in my head, finally seeing it all in a very different light.

_"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, furious._

_"You know, I would really like to know the same thing, sweetheart," Draco said, sounding slightly agitated, and stepped toward me with a hand outstretched. With a sigh, as if trying to calm himself down, he shook his head and asked, "Baby, what's going on? Are you feeling sick?"_

_I scoffed. "Of course I'm feeling sick, Malfoy. I just woke up in bed with you." My voice sounded as hard as steel._

_His eyebrows shot up and his features became shocked, as if he'd been smacked across the face. Concerned, he stepped toward me again with hands reaching for me, elegant in every movement. His hand rubbed my shoulder, comforting and unfamiliar. I skyrocketed backward at his touch, slapping his hands away._

_"Don't touch me!" I shouted piercingly. What was his problem?_

_He staggered backward, as if I'd stabbed him with something jagged and slicing. His eyes flashed stony gray like the mists of a thousand hurricanes, twinkling abnormally in the morning light, as if glistening with moisture. His pale cheeks suddenly became flushed, his lips forming a hard, thin line. He looked wounded, as if my words had somehow, uncharacteristically injured him. When he spoke, his voice cracked and his tone was rough, as if he was struggling._

_"Alright, I can see we're just back to where we started, then," he said coarsely, disappointingly. "Play it your way then. I guess last night meant nothing to you after all."_

_With that, he grabbed a pair of pants lying near the foot of the bed and the white shirt strewn over a chair in front of the room's vanity. Without so much as a second glance, he crossed the room and threw open the bedroom door._

_"Happy anniversary," he snarled and then slammed the door shut._

I was suddenly jarred out of my memory by the sound of Draco slamming the bathroom door. Unable to contain myself, I plucked his dress shoe from the floor and flung it at the closed door, only to hear the shower faucet running in response. Too on edge to sleep and too emotional to sit still, I threw open the door and stomped into the hallway, running right into Pamela. From the stern expression on her face, I knew instantly that she'd come to scold Draco and me for being so loud, probably because our fighting was distressing the boys again. But as soon as she saw me her face instantly grew concerned and she gasped as I collapsed into her arms.

With the weight of my body clinging to hers, she slid down the wall until both of us were sitting on the carpet of the hallway outside the master bedroom, me sobbing into her chest.

"I just don't understand what went wrong," I blubbered and proceeded to fill Pamela in on my fight with Draco.

After my tale was done, Pamela brushed away several strands of hair from my face and shook her head.

"Hermione Jean Malfoy," she clucked. "If only you understood the depth of love that Draco has for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Silly girl," Pamela said, smiling. "Don't you see? Draco didn't even explain the half of it to you, probably because he loves you so much that he doesn't want to force you to pick him. He wants you to make your own choice and love him because of who he is, not what he tells you."

"I'm still not following, I'm afraid," I admitted.

"Ron was in a sore spot when you left him, but it was even worse when he discovered you'd fallen in love with his worst enemy," Pamela started. "Harry had already forgiven Draco for his wrongs, and you had too. After the war, everyone changed, but it effected Ron in a very negative way. You saw that and realized that you deserved to move on from the war and start a new life. Ron wished to wallow in losing his loved ones and his friends—"

"Yes, he always had such a dark spirit about him after the complications with Tom Riddle's locket," I remembered. "He was never quite the same after the war. I guess I never realized that."

"Well, you were tryin' to find yourself as well," Pamela sympathized. "Anyway, after you left Ron for Draco, he lost control. He began followin' you around at work, everywhere you went, showin' up at your flat, beggin' and screamin' and tryin' to convince you not to marry Draco and to take him back. When you refused and threatened to kick him out of your life completely if he didn't turn his life around, he left you alone. He broke your heart when he didn't show up at your weddin' ceremony and you cried about it for several minutes after it was over. But then he showed up late to your weddin' reception, drunk as can be and despondent. He began tossin' over tables and stompin' on cameras, even went as far as to shove your father into the weddin' cake, which collapsed on him and your mother. And then, when Draco demanded Ron leave, he flew off the handle and began swingin' at him, shouting' that Draco ruined his life."

"You're kidding," I gasped.

"Wish I was," Pamela sighed, "but you, Draco, and Ginny have told me this story so many times in my lifetime, it's like I was actually there."

"That's horrible," I said. "And on my wedding night."

_How come he manages to screw up my wedding night in _every_ reality?_ I thought tiredly.

"Oh, no, that's not even the worst part," Pamela said and I raised my eyebrows.

"There's _more_?"

"While he was tryin' to get in a blow or two at Draco, you tried to stop him and forced your way between them, beggin' Ron to stop," Pamela continued.

"Sounds familiar," I muttered.

"He was so far gone that he didn't even notice you," Pamela said. "Instead of landin' a punch on Draco, he found you. Clocked you right in the eye. The force of the blow flung you into a neighborin' table and covered your weddin' dress in h'orderves. Draco immediately came to your side and helped clean you up. Furious, Harry personally escorted Ron out of the weddin', called him a cab, and sent him home. Oh, you were devastated for weeks. Draco was in a right state, from what I heard. He'd tried to be on good terms with Ron before the weddin', for your sake, but after that, after what he put you through, Draco never forgave him. Of course, later, Ron fell in love with Ariana, who saw in him a wonderful man covered by years of turmoil and pain. She helped him out of his drunken stupor and they married and had a happy marriage."

"Up until now," I noted and Pamela frowned. "I wonder why that is."

"Stress, most likely," Pamela sighed and I agreed. "What, with the new Dark Marked threats hangin' about and the problems Ari and him have been havin', I can't say I blame him for wantin' to throw in the towel. But, I think what really sent him over the edge was you losin' your memory."

"Me?" I stammered. "Why?"

"Brought up old wounds, I'd imagine," Pamela guessed. "He started dwellin' on the past, wonderin' if he'd made the right choice in lettin' you go, if now that he was better, he could win you back. And then, I'd imagine he probably got so upset with himself for thinkin' like that when he's got a wife and kids, that he started drinkin' again to make it all go away, and everythin' went downhill from then on."

"How come that makes perfect sense?" I wondered. "How are you so intuitive?"

"I'm no stranger to inner demons and livin' in the past," she reminded me and I flashed back to the story she'd told me about when she was just a young seventeen year old from Georgia with a mother who didn't give a care and a father who resented her for even being born. "Believe you me, Hermione, Ron will bounce back soon enough, once he's battled through it all."

"I know that, Pam," I whispered. "I just worry that it won't be soon enough for Ari and the girls."

We were silent for quite some time and finally I shook my head.

"He really does love me, doesn't he?"

"Who?"

"Draco."

Pamela laughed. "Well, if you're only now comin' to that realization, you are more oblivious than I thought."

"I guess I really don't know as much about Draco as I thought I did," I sighed, hating myself for what I'd said to him. "I wish I could take it all back, but it's too late."

"Hermione Malfoy, you listen to me now and you listen up straight," Pamela snapped. "It is _never_ too late. It's not too late for Ron to realize what he's done and make it right with Ari and it's not too late for you and Draco to set things right as well."

"You're right," I agreed and gave her a long hug. "Thank you. I just worry that I might've hit the last straw. What if he doesn't forgive me?"

"Good Lord, woman," Pamela said, rolling her eyes. "That man loves you so much, he'll forgive you within five minutes of your apology, knowin' him."

With that, she left me outside my bedroom and danced down the stairs, out of sight. With a sigh, I turned the knob of my door and slowly peeked in the bedroom. The shower's faucet was no longer running, but the light in the bathroom was still on and the door was still barred shut, so I took that as a safe sign. I shut the door behind me and flipped off the lights before crawling into bed and pulling the soft covers up to my chin.

Alone to my thoughts, I couldn't help but think of Draco and his face when I'd broken his heart for probably the thousandth time. The man was too good. He didn't deserve me. Finally, after dwelling on how horrible I felt, I let go of my stubborn pride and began to cry. Not for me, not because I was confused, but for Draco. For everything I'd put him through, not only just tonight but through the past two months. I vowed to myself right then and there that I'd make things better between us.

_Creak._

My heart stopped and it took all of my willpower not to jump out of the bed and fling my arms around his neck, showering him in apologies. Instead, I stayed perfectly still, keeping my breathing at a regular pace, and waited. Eventually, he got into bed with his back turned to me. I waited for him to say something, but he probably thought I was asleep.

"Draco."

I felt him jump a little, but he did not respond.

_Maybe he thinks I'm dreaming._

"Draco."

Again he ignored me. I puffed and rolled over, grabbing his arm. A jolt zapped through my body when I realized he was not wearing a shirt. His skin was warm and slightly moist from his shower. Upon feeling my touch, Draco shifted away from me, causing a deep pang to penetrate my heart.

_He hates me,_ I thought despairingly.

_Oh, please. Don't be such a fool. He loves you,_ the rational voice inside my head scoffed. _Remember what Pamela said? He'll forgive__ you soon enough. Just keep trying._

After a few more minutes, he rolled over so that he was on his back, and I decided it'd be safe to try again. Boldly, I wrapped my arms around his torso, sniffling into his his chest.

"Draco, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I'm so sorry," I whispered, snuggling closer to him, willing him to understand. I felt his body tighten at my proximity. "Pamela told me everything and I realize now why you feel the way you do. I shouldn't have been talking to Ron about those things; I didn't even think how much it could hurt you. Believe me, if I'd known—"

He sighed and turned to face me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me so close to his body that I could no longer talk. Now, if he intended to do so in order to shut me up or because he truly forgave me, I was unsure, but at that moment it didn't matter. I found his touch, his arms around me, to be the most comforting feeling in the world. And for the first time since I'd woken up married to Draco Malfoy, I felt whole.

"I'm the one that should be sorry, Hermione," he said softly. "I do trust you, but my jealousy tends to get the best of me at times." At this he laughed and I felt his entire body ripple. "What can I say? I'm protective and a _bit_ possessive. It's the Slytherin in me."

I smirked and traced my fingers down his bare back, causing us both to shiver.

"I don't like fighting with you," I confessed.

"I'm not particularly fond of it myself, angel."

At this, I laughed.

"What's your deal with silly pet names?"

"You love them," he said simply.

"But they are so cheesy," I complained.

"That's the whole point, _pumpkin_," he teased, poking my nose affectionately.

And then, so suddenly, he sighed and began to move away, pulling his heat away from me.

_Wait!_ I wanted to shout out. _Why are you leaving? Please, com__e back!_

"I guess—I'll let you go to sleep."

He sounded so down in that moment, so reluctant. Yet, I knew he was doing it for my sake, to make me comfortable. Always so safe, never crossing boundaries, never willing to risk losing me.

I decided I'd let him be and try and get some sleep, but after _at least_ twenty minutes of tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, I huffed.

"Draco?" I whispered timidly. "Are you asleep?"

His response almost immediately met my ears.

"No."

I smiled in relief.

"I can't fall asleep," I admitted.

"Neither can I."

Again, we were quiet for some time.

"Draco?" I ventured again.

"Hm?" he chuckled.

_Oh, go on,_ my inner conscience encouraged. _Worst it can do it kill you._

"Will you—will you—hold me?"

I heard his sharp intake of breath and feared the worst, jamming my eyes shut.

"Are—Are you sure?" he breathed and I nodded.

"Just until I am asleep, that's all," I added quickly. "And—And then you can let go."

To my shock, he complied, nuzzling my body into his, stroking my hair with his long spidery fingers. His heartbeat drummed rapidly and out of sync against my ear, but as we continued to lie together, it returned to its normal lullaby, it's rythmic pumping lulling me slowly into a beautiful, deep slumber where I was safe and finally happy.


	21. Moving Forward

Disclaimer: Nothing from Harry Potter, in any shape or form, belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: For the hundredth time_—_I am not dropping this story, friends. I haven't been able to update because I've been recovering from surgery. Not to worry, I'm slowly getting my strength and ambition back. I will not stop this story. Please stop worrying. I'll never abandon this. Just give me some time and please be patient. I'm trying, really, I am.

Haha, so, update, anyone? I think I've kept it from you long enough, don't you? My apologies. Enjoy!

-Annie

* * *

Moving Forward

I woke the next morning, humming myself out of sleep. I'd been dreaming of _Sleeping Beauty_. It had been such a good dream, I didn't want to wake up. However, the sun had different plans. It burned and seared unforgivably into my eyes, through the bed linens, the pillow thrown over my face, bouncing off the walls, flooding my brain.

Sighing, I finally gave up.

The soft sheets, warmed by the morning sunlight filtering in through the open balcony doors, skimmed my fingers as I stretched across the mattress like a lounging kitten. A well glorified yawn rounded out of my mouth as I reached across the bed, my hands searching. Realizing there was just empty space, I sat upright, rolled my shoulders, and frowned.

Draco was gone.

I shook my mane of honey colored tresses and yawned again. The clock on the nightstand read a blinking eight thirty. Deciding it was time to start my day, I reluctantly curled out of bed and hobbled tiredly into the bathroom to change. There was no possible way my hair was going to stay managable today, so I threw it up into a curly bun and skewered it with two oriental chopsticks. Then, I slipped into some khaki shorts and a loose fitting black shirt.

I was too sleepy to do much of anything else, but I knew there was no way I could go back to sleep now.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eye is so familiar a gleam," I half-yawned, half-sang while I descened the stairs.

The sun was so _bright; _a headache was already forming by the time I appeared in the kitchen. Grabbing a bowl, some Grapenuts cereal, and the Daily Prophet, I swooped into the dining room and began my morning. The headline caught my eye.

_Troubles in France. _

Suddenly, Draco appeared in the doorway, tossing a green apple playfully in the air. He was wearing his usual work attire, complete with tie and robes. I frowned at the briefcase he was holding in his other hand.

"Morning," he greeted with a small smile.

"Have you seen this?" I wondered, showing him a glimpse of the front page.

Slowly, he sauntered over to me and took the paper easily from my grasp, skimming it. He sighed heavily and threw the paper back down on the wooden table.

"Unfortunately," he replied lowly. "I don't know how I'm going to fix this problem."

Draco gripped the edge of the wooden table and sighed. His eyes seemed strained and tired.

"Their minister is weak-skinned and superstitious," Draco continued. "Instead of trusting us as he should, he's convinced we're out to ruin him. We've been trying to convince him otherwise, but you know the French. Always so_—_"

"Stubborn," I finished. I'd heard his spiel a million times. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Well, I thought I'd go to the office today. I've got loads to catch up on."

I bit my lip in displeasure.

"It's the weekend, Draco," I reminded him keenly.

"I've got a lot on my plate, as you can tell."

I nodded, trying to play indifferent, but I couldn't repress the worry I had bubbling in my stomach. For some ungodly reason, I fretted that what had happened between Ari and Ron was beginning to play out in my realtionship with Draco. After all, wasn't that how it had all started? He'd started pulling extra hours at work? Now, Draco might be doing the same thing, except unlike Ron, Draco had more of a reason. Draco's own wife was missing eleven years of her life.

"Y_—_You'll be home for dinner?" I asked, my voice cracking.

He seemed shocked by the insecurity in my voice and came over to me, gripping my small hands in his.

"Of course I will," he vowed and I swallowed, hating myself for how emotional I was getting. I was being so stupid.

He seemed concerned and tightened his grip. "What's wrong?"

"It's just...yesterday. We've come so far and everything was going fine. I am so sorry. Please, Draco. I don't want any problems. As odd as it may be, we work together. We just fit. And I need you in my life."

Draco smiled, cupping my cheek affectionately.

"I know. And I'm sorry for the row last night, too. Let's just forget it ever happened, love. I trust you."

I wanted nothing more than to pull him back to me, but I let him go with great reluctance, knowing he needed to be elsewhere. I watched from the den as he stepped into the fireplace, blowing me a kiss before disappearing. Hating myself for the irrational way I was feeling, I turned from the fireplace and plopped on the couch, sighing heavily and burying my head in my hands.

"Are you okay?" asked Pamela suddenly, entering from the back door.

She quickly came to my side and threw an arm around my shoulders, gripping me tightly as if knowing I was close to breaking. I embraced her thankfully, feeling my spirits lift ever so slightly with her comfort.

"I'm fine," I assured her and when she raised her eyebrows at me, I laughed. "I promise. It has just been a rough couple of days."

"More than rough," she corrected, patting my arm. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Pamela," I said and nudged her. "Now what did you want to ask me?"

She stared at me, flabbergasted. "How did you know?"

"You are so completely obvious when you want something," I stated with a smirk and Pamela's cheeks reddened.

"I was just going to see if you would be opposed to Dennis and me going on a date this evening," she whispered.

"You're going on a date!" I shouted.

"O_—_Only if it is okay with you," she hurried. "If you need me to watch the boys_—"_

_"_Nonsense, don't be ridiculous," I cried, hugging her. "I'm so happy for you, truly."

"If you and Draco already have plans, I can just tell him_—_"

"No, you go and have a wonderful evening together," I commanded. "Anyway, Draco is working late and I have nothing planned so there's no reason to stay."

"Thank you," Pamela giggled.

The next few hours consisted of me cleaning the house, visiting my mother, playing far too much 'pretend pirates' with Haden, and watching repetitive amounts of TV with the boys. Around five o'clock, Pamela came inside with the boys with grass stains of her knees and rosy cheeks. The boys soon followed, both laughing and dirty-faced. I looked up from the story book I'd purchased from the store the other day and quirked an eyebrow at them.

"What exactly happened to you?" I asked Pamela, shutting my book and setting it on the coffee table.

"You act like you've never seen dirt before," Pamela responded with a wink, panting. "We just had a bit of fun. Is Dennis here, yet?"

I shook my head and checked my watch.

"He should be here soon. I know he's with Harry today, but I made sure Harry knew not to keep him long. No promises, though," I informed her with a smirk.

"Right, well, I'm going to go get changed," she squeaked and bustled out the door.

"Alright, boys!" I called, clapping my hands together as I stood. "To the bathtubs."

Jasper rolled his eyes like I was annoying him in some unlawful way and Haden pouted.

"No, Mummy," Haden argued, shaking his mane of curly chestnut locks. "I don't want to."

"I know, sweetie, but Daddy will be home soon and I need to start dinner," I reminded the boy. "Now go upstairs with your brother and take a bath, please."

"But, I don't want to."

"Jazz, make sure he cleans himself properly, will you?" I asked and the blond nodded before dragging his brother up the stairs.

I smiled after them. It still shocked me how much I loved the children I'd created with Draco. Everyday, I loved them more and more. There was no denying that these children were mine in every way, shape, and form. I had no idea how I could possibly cope if they were taken away from me.

Putting that horrible thought out of my head, I checked my watch again. Draco still wasn't home. Sighing, I started on preparing some orange chicken, rice, stir-fried vegetables, and chocolate mousse for dinner, hoping that it would occupy my thoughts instead of Draco.

Suddenly, the fireplace chimed and I jumped, nearly dropping the entire container of orange sauce in the trash bin. I hurried to see who'd arrived and felt myself deflate upon realizing it was just Dennis. He waved, sending me a friendly smile and I returned it reluctantly. I mentally slapped myself for getting my hopes up. Then, I had to wonder why on earth my hopes had been up in the first place.

Was I going mad or was I actually starting to...feel...something for...

_No,_ I thought hastily. _I'm so not going there. _

"Hello, Dennis," I greeted, clearing my throat. "How was your meeting?"

"Can't say," he grunted teasingly. "Classified and such. I'm sure you understand?"

I rolled my eyes at his joking manner and returned to the kitchen.

"Er, is Pammy around, by chance?" Dennis wondered, poking his head into the kitchen.

"She should be inside any minute. She went to freshen up a few minutes ago."

"Right. Thanks."

"Don't be nervous, Dennis," I laughed. "I know that she'll love whatever you have planned for her tonight."

Right on cue, Pamela pranced through the back door and greeted Dennis with a timid smile.

"Hello," she said softly, her eyes alight with a thousand tiny embers.

"You look beautiful," Dennis said, extending his arm. "Shall we?"

Pamela nodded and I sent her an encouraging thumbs up as she passed me by. The fireplace chimed and they were gone.

_I wonder what mine and Draco's first date was,_ I thought to myself as I continued with dinner. I'd never really thought of it before. Did he pull something fancy and sweep me off my feet? Did he try and level down to my comfort zone and do something simple? Did _I _initiate the first date or did he? Or did we even have a so called "first date"?

My heart suddenly jolted as two arms encircled my waist. I dropped the wooden spoon I'd been holding in the sink and screamed loud and clear.

"Oh my good bloody gracious!" I howled, spinning around and knocking my nose with Draco's. He instantly started laughing and I scowled, punching him in the shoulder. "Don't _do_ that! You startled me to death."

"My apologies," he snickered. Infuriated, my heart still racing, I turned back to the dinner and tried not to think about how he was still holding me.

"Looks good," he whispered in my ear.

"It's almost done," I said in response, trying to ignore how his warm breath on my neck made me shiver.

"I wasn't talking about the food," he breathed, wriggling his eyebrows at me. Despite myself, I blushed and he, again, burst into laughter.

"Prat," I laughed, swatting him. "You said you'd be home by five. I was expecting you home."

"I had to make a pitstop," he explained, his eyes twinkling with mischievousness.

"Oh?"

"Mhm, had to do something extremely important."

"Important enough to miss dinner and break your word to your wife?" I gasped jokingly.

"Why, yes, actually."

I snorted. "Okay, now I'm curious. What, pray tell, kept you?"

As way of answering, he put up a finger signalling he'd only be a moment and disappeared into the den, leaving me confused. He returned only seconds later, a cheeky grin on his pale face, and brandished twelve red roses.

"For you," he said.

"M-Me? Whatever for?" I choked, taking the beautiful flowers. He'd even taken the time to get the thorns removed so that I wouldn't stick myself.

"You are my wife, of course," he answered deeply, edging toward me. "Must a husband always need a reason for buying his wife flowers?"

A nervous laugh escaped my throat. "In most cases yes. Unless you're always this romantic?"

"I won't deny that last statement, but I did have a reason."

"One of life and death?" I teased.

"Perhaps," he replied with a smile, but then grew sober. "I wanted to apologize again for my behavior last night."

Timidly, I raised the scarlet petals to my nose and sniffed.

_Heaven,_ I thought in delight.

"I forgive you."

_Now that's a rare treat,_ the sarcastic voice in the back of my head piped. _Hermione Granger forgiving Draco Malfoy. _

"Splendid!" Draco exclaimed and clapped his hands together. Then, suddenly, his beautiful smile disappeared and he frowned deeply.

"What is it?" I wondered, worried.

"There's just one more thing."

"What?" I prodded, but he remained silent. "Draco Malfoy!"

He cleared his throat at my outburst and smirked.

"Do you forgive me for_ almost_ missing dinner and_ almost_ breaking my promise to you?"

My insides relaxed and I sighed in relief. Always the tease.

"Oh, that's a difficult decision," I joked, "but considering you weren't late, although you certainly cut it close, and you _did_ risk your life to find me these exquisite flowers..." I trailed off, smelling the flowers again. "Yes, I suppose I'll be forced to forgive you."

He let out a bark of a laugh and kissed my cheek.

"You wound me, you know that? I never knew you could be so abusive."

"You should have figured that out before you married me, hot shot," I reminded him and left the kitchen to set the table while Draco called the boys down for dinner.

Once we were all seated at the table and greedily stuffing our faces, Draco dropped a bomb shell on me, nearly destroying my world.

"My mother is hosting her summer gala and has requested our attendance," he told me and I swallowed roughly, inhaling my chicken.

Draco's mother. Narcissa Malfoy. _Narcissa_. The beautiful and intimidating woman I'd met only on brief occasions.

"Are you sure that's right?" I sputtered. "She doesn't quite like me from what I remember."

"You're also missing eleven years of your life," he reminded me, taking my hand in his. "She's quite fond of you now. Anyway, it will be in the evening and you'll need to wear a formal dress."

I tried not to dwell too much on the news, but I failed immensely and continued to fret about the upcoming gala for the rest of dinner. Grateful to have something to do, I clambered into the kitchen to do the dishes. Afterwards, I joined Draco and our sons outside to roast marshmallows and play as a family.

It helped put my mind at ease, allowing myself to let go of everything and play with my husband and children. It was a nice break from everything. "These absurd things are so sticky," Draco complained, dropping his marshmallow onto the grass and pouting.

"Aw, here, you can have mine," I consoled, taking my marshmallow off my stick. With a glint in my eye, I suddenly shoved the marshmallow in his face, smearing the sticky whiteness all over him.

"Oi!" he cried as Jasper and Haden howled in laughter.

Draco shot for me but I whisked away, darting around the yard. Of course, he chased me, and he was much faster, but Haden and Jasper came to my rescue just in time. They tackled their father to the ground before he could catch me and we all tumbled to the grass, laughing hysterically.

By the time the sun went down, both boys were exhausted from all the fun. Draco carried a sleepy Haden up to his room while I slowly lugged Jasper up the stairs, his hand in mine as he trudged to his room next to me. Together, Draco and I kissed our children goodnight and turned off the lights.

"I had a wonderful evening," I said once we were alone in the hallway.

"Me too," Draco agreed.

There was a tense silence as Draco inched closer to me, ever so slightly. A breath away and his hand clasped mine. Our foreheads touched, our breath danced, our skin flared, and our arms came around each other. So close to jumping into a fire I knew would either burn me or warm me, but I couldn't tell.

_Slam._

There was a giggle from somewhere downstairs. Pamela and Dennis, trying and failing to be quiet, obviously slightly drunk. I pulled away from Draco as if he'd set me on fire. Instantly, I could see he was hurt and I cast my eyes to the ground.

"Shh," I could hear Pamela whispering. "Don't wake them up. Come with me."

"Wait," Dennis laughed and then they were quiet, the only sound an occasional smooching noise, indicating they were kissing.

And then the back door shut.

I swallowed, noticing how Draco and I were now barely holding each other. The moment had come and gone, like so many others, and I didn't know how to retrieve it. Didn't know if I wanted to, even.

Draco sighed and released my hand.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, ashamed that I didn't have the courage to give him what he wanted.

"I've got a lot of work to do," was all he said before fleeing to his study and shutting the door.

I was left standing in the hallway, wondering why I was such a coward. Wondering.

That night, when my husband joined me in our bed, he did not hold me. And though I wished I could ask him to, it was enough that he was even there. I didn't want to push it, afraid I would lose even this.

Afraid to be out of my comfort zone. Afraid to push myself past that point of no return. Afraid to love a man who so obviously desired my love.

Afraid.

I wondered what exactly had happened since I'd woken up next to Draco to make all my Gryffindor bravery shrink till it was shot to hell.


	22. Can't Say No To You

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

A/N:  Wow! Can I just express right now, how MUCH I LOVE my reviewers and readers? Thank you all so so much for sticking with me, despite everything-despite my lack of updates these past few months. Yes, I am doing okay health-wise at the moment. Thank you for being patient with me and all the craziness that has prevented me from completing this story yet. But, do not lose hope. This story will eventually be complete.

So, here we are with another chapter. Enjoy!

P.S. As a certain reviewer of mine once mentioned, all that is missing from my story are some kittens. So, this is for you **Lovin'EveryMoment.**

-Annie

* * *

Can't Say No To You

"Hey, Hermione," greeted Ginny, sliding easily into her seat next to me at the local cafe where we usually met for lunch.

"Hey!" I said excitedly. "How was your weekend with Harry?"

"Absolutely _perfect_," she enthused and I smiled. "How's your day been?"

"It's actually been pretty moderate. Harry's thinking about letting me off early, it's been so slow," I responded, taking a sip from my glass of water.

"Boring. Have you seen Ari today?" Ginny asked, propping open her menu. "I haven't heard from her in ages, it seems."

"She didn't come in today. Called in sick."

Ginny paused from scanning her menu and stared at me at length before scoffing.

"My brother is such a prick sometimes."

"He can be," I agreed. "But I think it goes both ways. You know, I don't think Ari is really fighting for Ron anymore."

Ginny shrugged, silently agreeing with me.

"I felt like she used to fight," Ginny said. "She hasn't really been herself lately, though."

"And I think that's why Ron hasn't come home, yet," I explained. "Maybe it's because he doesn't feel that Ariana wants him anymore, that she's given up on him."

"Do you think we should mention anything to Ari about it?" Ginny asked, biting her lip.

"I wouldn't yet," I said. "We should give her some more time. I'll go talk to her after my shift ends, see if she's doing okay. But let's give her some more time before we light her fire. You know how stubborn she can be."

Ginny nodded, snickering. We finished our lunch with easy conversation before I returned to work. After dropping off a few documents to Harry's office, he gave me the okay to head out early. I grabbed my purse and headed out, apparating to Ariana's house. I knocked several times before the door managed to creak open.

"Hermione?" came a croak from within the darkness of the house.

I squinted through the crack in the door, barely registering the small outline of Ariana's body.

"What are you doing here?" rasped Ariana carefully, opening the door just barely and then moving to close it, throwing a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Can I come in?"

Ariana bit her lip, hesitating, and then shook her head.

"It's actually not a good time," Ariana said. "I'm very sick; I don't want to get you sick, too."

I wasn't listening to this. As she was shutting the door, I stuck my foot out to stop it from closing entirely. Then, I shoved the door back, gently at first and then more forcefully as Ariana continued to shut me out.

"Why is it so dark in your house?" I wondered, closing the door and moving past Ariana.

"I'm tired. I can't sleep well with light," Ariana answered numbly.

In response, I threw open the heavy curtains covering the windows, allowing a powerful blast of sunlight to burst through the den. My eyes fell on the coffee table, covered with crumpled tissues and bottles of wine. A large carton of ice cream lay on its side, half empty. On the couch were several blankets and pillows.

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon, Ariana," I told her blandly and then motioned over the room. "Have you been sleeping here?"

Ariana scoffed and turned away from me, cheeks flushing.

"I haven't felt very good," she said in response, glaring at me. "Please get out."

Shocked, I raised my eyebrows. I sauntered over to the couch, throwing the sheets and blankets off of it. I plopped down on the seat cushion and pulled Ariana over. This small act was all Ariana needed and she suddenly broke down, tearing leaking down her face in a rush. I pulled her to me, letting her rest her head on my shoulder, noting how she probably hadn't showered in a few days.

"I love him so much," she blubbered. "And he wants to divorce me."

"Shh, it's okay," I comforted, rubbing her arm.

"What about my children?" she sputtered helplessly.

"Speaking of your children, where are they?" I wondered, peering over her shoulder to the barren expanse of her home.

"They're staying with my mother."

At this I frowned.

"You mean you've left your kids with your mum so that you can wallow around your house in your pajamas, not bathing, eating nothing but cartons of ice cream?" I sighed. "Ari, that's pathetic. You need to wake up and get your life in order."

"Oh, like it's so simple. Perfect little Hermione with her life so orderly. With a husband who loves her even though she doesn't remember him and keeps being a little bitch to him. How dare you call me pathetic. You are seriously one to talk."

Her words stung. Still, I wouldn't let them get in my way of trying to reach her. She needed help or she was going to drown herself, just as I once did.

"Fair enough," I replied gruffly. "Look, I'm not your enemy, but I'm tired of seeing you like this. Ginny and I have been worried sick about you. And now you're calling in sick when you are perfectly healthy? That's a sign that something is very wrong."

"There's nothing wrong."

"Oh, Ariana, stop it!" I lashed, grabbing the trash basket from the corner of the room and tossing the ice cream carton and tissues into it. I stood and faced her, shoving the trash basket into her arms. "It's serious time you get a wake up call! Be a mother to your children. Get them over here now and start taking care of them. And for goodness sake,_ clean _your house. He's living at his mum's for a short time, not _divorcing_ you. But he's certainly not going to take you back if you're this much of a wreck, so get off your butt and, please, for the love of God, take a shower!"

She started to open her mouth to argue, outraged and furious with my words, but I pressed on.

"You know what? Put on some perfume, curl your hair, do your make up for a change, and put on a nice dress. Make yourself feel pretty. Then, go fetch your children from your mother, get back to work, and win your husband _back_!" I shouted. "He still loves you, Ariana."

I grabbed my purse and started heading for the door.

"If you choose to believe that or not is entirely up to you."

And with that, I left her in the sun-streaked den, closing the door firmly behind me.

* * *

When I arrived home shortly after my confrontation with Ariana, I noticed something different about the house. There was a slight shift in the air as I emerged from the fireplace. From somewhere upstairs, I heard a loud bark of a laugh. The voice was male and distantly familiar, but it was most definitely not Draco's.

Confused, I searched downstairs for any sign of Pamela, Dennis, or my sons. No one was in sight. I figured that Pamela had probably gone out with Dennis or was running errands, and stole up the staircase, following the laughter until I came to a stop outside of Draco's study.

"I don't think she's ready for that," Draco was saying.

"You'll never know until you ask."

I frowned, leaning in closer to the study, trying to decipher who Draco was conversing with.

"It's not that easy," my husband sighed.

"When has a relationship ever been easy?" the other male snorted. "You didn't worry about her rejecting you when you asked her out all those years ago."

"That was different," argued Draco.

"Not very different from then, Draco. She's still Hermione," the man pointed out. "Except now she has a family and sees the side of you that isn't a complete prick."

They shared a smattering of laughter and there was a loud clinking noise.

"Here, have another drink."

"You really think I should suggest getting out of the house, just the two of us?" Draco asked.

"Think of it this way," said Draco's drinking partner. "You get to make her fall in love with you all over again."

They both laughed loudly at this and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but how was I to know he was in the middle of a conversation with a friend?

"As if it wasn't hard enough the first time around."

Just then, there was a crash coming somewhere from the boys' room down the hall and a chorus of shouts from little boys. I rolled my eyes. So, I'd found where the children were hiding. I knew the house seemed too quiet to be true.

"I guess I'd better go check on the boys," Draco laughed. "It's been a while."

Before I could hurry away and hide, or at least pretend I hadn't been obviously listening in on their conversation, I was caught redhanded as Draco and a very tall, dark skinned man emerged from the office. The taller man was very handsome and carried a very flirtatious and amusing air about him that had me instantly on my toes.

"Hermione, I have _missed_ you my sweet!" the tall Italian suddenly cawed, reaching for me and swinging me about. When finally he rested me on my feet again, my head was spinning, my heart was racing, and my look of absolute horror was clearly evident on my face.

"Blaise," Draco warned, though amusement shined in his eyes at my reaction. "'Mione, you remember Blaise Zabini."

Then, it clicked. Of course, he was much older than when I'd seen him briefly at Hogwarts or even in Draco's pensive, but I still recognized him.

"Of course," I said, giving him a nod. "I remember he was much nicer than you, Draco."

"Oh! _Burn_!" Blaise yelped triumphantly, ruffling my hair. "I knew I always liked this woman. You know, Hermione, if Draco hadn't followed my advice and swept you off your feet, I probably would have taken his place."

My cheeks immediately flushed at the thought and I swallowed.

"He never got the chance," Draco intercepted, shoving his friend away.

I heard a door shut from farther down the hall, from where the guest bathroom was located, and watched as Astoria rounded the corner, pulling her long dark hair back into a ponytail. When she spotted me, she grinned and embraced me tightly.

"When did you get home?" she asked me. "Draco said he wasn't expecting you home for another couple of hours.

"Slow day," I explained, smiling at her. "How are you?"

"Doing well," she answered. "I hope my over zealous husband didn't frighten you too much."

"Not at all," I snickered. "Though, I have a feeling this is only the beginning. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Only if you'll have us," Astoria said. "We don't wish to intrude."

"You two are never an intrusion," Draco scoffed.

The door to the boys' room swung open wide and Haden and Jasper came out into the hallway, running to give me hugs and kisses. Then, to my surprise, another boy emerged from the room. He was a tad taller than Jasper and was dark skinned like Blaise, with thick hair that curled around his ears and toward the nape of his neck like ebony silk.

"Hi, Mrs. Malfoy," greeted the young boy and I nodded, smiling uncertainly.

"My son, Sebastian," whispered Astoria into my ear. "He's Jasper's age. They like to play with each other a lot."

I was grateful for the explanation and she squeezed my shoulder, as if reading my mind. I truly felt terrible for the way I had acted toward her in Draco's office. I could now tell that Astoria was a genuinely kind and beautiful individual, and above all, a good friend.

"I'll help you make dinner," Astoria suggested and linked her arm with mine, taking me down the stairs. "Any ideas on what you want to make?"

I shrugged. Honestly, what I was going to make for dinner hadn't been on the top of my list on important things to go over today.

"Something Italian!" cried Blaise.

I chuckled, deciding it wasn't so awful of an idea, and Astoria and I set off to work, heating up noodles and zesty sauces.

"You know quite a few recipes," I said to her, amazed by her vast knowledge of spices and herbs.

"Well, you know them, too," she told me and I raised my eyebrows. "Only you don't remember that you know them. Blaise's grandmother taught me all I know. Over the years, you've coerced me to spill my secrets."

I laughed at this and then came off short.

"So, we're good friends," I said quietly.

"Very good friends," Astoria replied sincerely, bumping me with her hip.

"How?" I wondered. "I mean, you must have hated me. You engaged to Draco and I practically stole him from you."

Astoria let out a breathy laugh.

"Oh, hardly, Hermione," she said. "I never loved him as you did. I had a crush on him once upon a time, but it was so long ago and long before we were engaged to be married. You see, in pureblood families, it is almost an unwritten covenant that you must be married off to another pureblood. Draco's line and mine were both very prominent and Lucius and my father, were on good terms. Really, they only wanted the best for us, but Draco and I wouldn't have it. Both of us were pretty obedient and respectful to our parents, but when it came to arranging who we were to love and spend the rest of our lives together with, we rebelled. We wouldn't have them rip that agency from us."

I listened intently, trying to picture how it would be to have your parents give away your whole future like that.

"Draco and I became close friends, but neither of us wished to marry the other. Perhaps if we hadn't been forced together, we might've had something blossom between us, but we never got that chance. We couldn't stand the idea of giving ourselves away to someone we knew we couldn't love. And we knew we couldn't love each other under the circumstances. We'd both resent each other forever, and neither of us wanted a marriage full of resentment and bitterness."

"So you rebelled," I said and she nodded.

"I wanted to remain his friend above all things, and I knew I would eventually lose even that if he and I were to be married under force. We made an agreement to pretend we were in love around our families, but we allowed the other to go out and enjoy time with others before we were signed away for life. Draco had mainly given up on that, figuring there was nothing much he could do. Until you, that is. As for Blaise and me, he just kind of snuck up on me, really. He was Draco's exciting and flirtatious best friend and as the date to my wedding with Draco approached, Draco and I grew farther apart and Blaise and I grew closer. However, he was with Ariana at the time. Until you convinced Ariana to go back to the states with you, and Blaise and I stayed in Paris. Then, we ran away to Italy together and the wedding, despite how hard my father tried to find me, never happened."

I nodded, digesting her story, trying to picture it all in my head.

"Of course, with you and Draco, you had to be discreet, for his reputation and mine and yours, but it all eventually worked out," Astoria chuckled. "You'd had to be there to fully understand." She winked at me. "I swear, though, it was just like destiny, the way it all came together."

At this, I sighed, twitching at the thought. We set the table and sat down to eat. The boys finished their dinners first, eager to go play in the backyard, and I let them have their fun, watching them race each other outside.

When Blaise brought up the topic of theater, I was instantly engrossed in conversation with him.

"Astoria and I have tickets for every show," he informed me. "She's a very theatrical woman."

Astoria snorted, rolling her eyes.

"We're actually going to the theater next weekend," Blaise continued. "We _were_ going to go with this fellow and his wife from work, but plans fell through. So, now we have two extra tickets and no one else to go with us and keep us poor individuals company."

"Oh, Blaise, don't be so dramatic," Astoria giggled and suddenly her eyes lit up as if a light bulb had exploded in her head. "I've just had the most wonderful idea! Hermione, how would you and Draco like to go?"

I swallowed. A double date? This was all so odd. I didn't know if I could do this. A date with Draco, sitting next to Blaise and Astoria, all evening, in a darkened room.

"What's showing?" I found myself asking.

"Oh, what was it?" Blaise asked, crinkling his brow.

"I have no idea. You refuse to tell me which show we are going to see, every single time," Astoria remarked.

Suddenly, as if just dawned on him, Blaise snapped his fingers

_"The Phantom of the Opera. _That's it."

"Oh, Blaise, really?" gasped Astoria. "How exciting."

I couldn't breathe. This was a disaster. How could I possibly say no to seeing my favorite musical? My father had taken me to see _The Phantom of the Opera_ when I was younger and I had been in love with it ever since. He had even taken me to France the summer before my third year because I was so in love with it. We'd spent the entire week exploring everything from the actual opera house to the Eiffel to the Louvre.

"I l_ove_ Phantom of the Opera," I exclaimed. "It's my favorite production. Andrew Lloyd Webber is an absolute genius!"

"Ah, see?" Blaise said and very discreetly, nudged Draco with his elbow. "Would you and Draco like to join us?"

"Oh, you simply must," Astoria insisted, clutching my hand in earnest.

Slowly, I turned to Draco, to measure his expression. I didn't even know if he liked the theater.

"What do you think?" I asked him.

"If you want to," Draco said. "I wouldn't mind but if you don't want to go, I'll understand."

"Oh, Draco, can we?" I asked, practically begging him.

The expression on his face was almost hilarious, he looked so floored. Even so, he seemed delighted I was having a positive reaction to the idea.

"The tickets are yours," Blaise said, giving them to Draco.

Before I could even grasp the tickets in my hands and drool over them, the door to the backyard flew open and Haden screamed at me to come outside. He didn't seem scared or urgent, only that he wanted me to see something. The four of us followed the excited little boy out into my garden where a nest of kittens were huddled together, blindly moving amongst my petunias and mewing desperately. There was no mother in sight.

"The poor things," Astoria crooned, scooping up a gray ball of fur. "Their mother must have deserted them. I've never seen anything like it."

"That's very odd," Blaise said. "Unless the mother was harmed in some way, it's very unusual to see kittens abandoned." He set off to search for the mother, returning several minutes later with no luck. "Well, if the mother comes back, she'll be furious to find them gone, but I don't know if that will happen."

I watched Haden and Jasper play with the tiny bundles of fur and cuddle them lovingly. Beside them Sebastian was hassling a jet black kitten, poking it with a stick to get it to hiss at him.

"Daddy, can we please keep them?" Haden asked.

"No," Draco replied. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, Draco," I pleaded. "Why not?"

"Not a cat person."

"But they are just so adorable," I said, giving him my pouty face that I knew he couldn't resist. Then, to add to it all, Haden and Jasper both put on similar faces, begging and pleading, promising they'd be good.

Blaise suddenly shoved the snout of one of the kittens into Draco's face. "Aw, just look at those eyes. How can you say no?"

But Draco wasn't looking into the kitten's eyes when he gave in, saying with a sigh, "I can't."

He was looking into mine.


	23. In A Fairytale

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

A/N:  I love you all! You guys all deserve cookies! Happy holidays! I've had to deal with a death of a really close friend and finals. But, do not lose hope. This story will eventually be complete. So, enjoy your holidays and enjoy your next chapter.

-Annie

* * *

In A Fairytale

His hands grazed every inch of my body, sending tiny electric voltages down my entire being. His movements were slow and calculated. It was maddening, explorative, and I yearned for it more and more. A trembling, heady chill ran down my spine, and my heart pounded. All I was aware of was Draco's hand on my stomach, on my arms, tracing up my thighs. My body was on fire, his fingertips leaving behind a circus of lava across my sensitive skin.

The steaming water spouting from the shower head above our bodies fogged up the glass doors. Our bodies, drenched in sweat and the moisture from the shower, moved together like magnets. The tile of the shower was cool on my back. His breathing began to change, faster and rougher. His kisses along my neck grew more urgent.

"I love you," I gasped, clutching fistfuls of his angel blond hair.

"I love the way you make me feel." I ran the tips of my fingers along his chest, feeling his skin beneath my touch, the hard muscles beneath the soft creamy skin.

My pulse raced. It was far too hot. "I don't want you to stop touching me, ever. Touch me, Draco."

I watched the emotion light up his gray eyes, could feel his heartbeat pound.

"Put your hands on me, Draco," I whispered into his ear and suddenly his lips were on mine, whispering my name against my lips.

"Hermione, " he growled, his voice a low and throaty moan.

The sound of his voice, thick and rough with urgency, made me want to scream.

I stopped breathing. His touch on my skin was like burning fire, and I was happy it was him, so unbelievably overjoyed that he was the first person to make me feel this way inside. It was so overwhelming, I felt I might explode, and I suddenly threw my head back, crashing it into the tile wall, and cried out.

"Oh!" I gasped.

I shot upright, holding my throat with one hand while the other clenched my bedsheets. My heart hammered powerfully and heatedly in my chest. I blinked rapidly, shaking my head to clear the thoughts now scorched in my brain. Distantly, I heard the shower shut off in the bathroom a few paces away and instinctively gasped out loud.

The door opened a moment later and out walked Draco in nothing but a towel, his hair dripping wet. Water stroked his flushed skin, caressing its way down the panels of his toned chest.

"Morning, love," he greeted with a smile.

I squeaked in return and promptly fell off the bed, taking the entire sheet with me.

"'Mione?" he laughed. "Are you okay?"

Still unable to speak, I threw up my hand and gave him a thumbs up.

"Have you seen my wand, by chance?" he asked.

"On the kitchen counter," I answered.

"You going to get off the floor anytime soon, love?"

There was a low chuckle.

"I'm quite comfy down here, actually," I said.

"Okay, well remember that you are supposed to meet Astoria and Ginny today," Draco reminded her and I groaned.

"Shopping."

"Yes, shopping," said Draco and I could just picture his smirk. "And you're not going to be a poor sport about it either, Hermione. Even if you are going shopping with Ginny."

"Is Astoria any better?" I wondered.

"Not at all," he laughed.

I could hear the sound of a zipper.

"Are you clothed?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"No, I'm just going to work in my birthday suit," Draco scoffed. "Yes, I am dressed."

I sat up and Draco quirked an eyebrow at me.

"I'm going to work," he told me, rolling his eyes at me. "I'll see you at the gala tonight."

My eyes jammed shut and I nearly coughed. The gala. Narcissa Malfoy. Tonight.

"Have a good day," I called after him and immediately jumped into action.

Except halfway through my shower, images began dancing around my brain. Images of my dream, of me and Draco in this very shower. Suffice it to say, I was out of that shower within five seconds of that thought, my heart bouncing around chaotically. I dressed quickly and left the house, eager to get my day over and done with.

"No _way_," I said a few hours later, in yet another dress shop. "I'm not wearing _that_."

I heard Ginny sigh exasperatedly. I could imagine her rolling her eyes as I flung the dress over my curtained dressing room. She sighed heavily again, placing another one of the dresses she'd picked out back on the "definitely not" rack.

I pulled back the curtain from my dressing room and peeked out at Ginny and Astoria. They were both standing before the tall mirrors on the opposite wall, inspecting their dresses.

Astoria glanced up at me in the mirror as I walked to them.

"Sweet Merlin," she breathed, turning around hastily and grabbing my shoulders. "Let me take a look at you."

Ginny, in the middle of clasping her own dress, gasped. "Herm, that dress...Red is definitely your color."

I looked down at the dress and then at myself in the mirror. It was nothing exotic, which I liked. It was strapless crimson gown which hugged my upper body in the most flattering way.

"Your breasts look incredible," Ginny continued.

"Now, now, Ginerva," Astoria teased. "You're turning green in envy."

"Like you aren't either," Ginny laughed.

I fiddled with my dress, feeling its silky texture on my fingertips. The sheer red material fit tight around my torso, accenting my waist, and then dripped down like a waterfall to the floor.

"Paired with a pair of silver heels and the right kind of jewelry," Astoria continued. "Hermione, you do know how to accessorize properly, right?"

I rolled my eyes and shoved her playfully.

"Well, Herm," Ginny commented, patting me on the shoulder. "I would most definitely shag you if I were a man."

"Oh, goodness, Gin," Astoria laughed.

In the end, once we'd all agreed on the proper dresses, we bought our purchases and returned to the house to get ready together in my room.

Ginny insisted upon curling my hair and she piled it up on my head with a few wisps hanging down, accenting my cheekbones. I wore simple silver hoop earrings and silver bangles on my wrist so that whenever I moved my hand, it jingled.

"Help me zip this up, will you?" asked Astoria.

Astoria, of course, had bought a very revealing black dress. It clung to her figure in a very appealing way, dripping down to the floor. It was slit up long down her thigh, revealing her shapely long legs. It also had a plunging necklace and had an open back so low, Hermione thought she'd faint by the riskiness of it all. Ginny's dress was stunningly beautiful on her figure as well—ocean blue with thin spaghetti straps. She paired it with heels and white gloves and wore a moon-shaped necklace around her neck that Harry had given her.

Evening soon approached and with Pamela and Dennis watching the children, Astoria, Ginny, and I headed to Malfoy Manor. The entire time, I kept fidgeting.

"You'll be fine," Ginny soothed. "She's not my favorite slice of pie, but you get along well with her."

We trailed up the long walkway and I noticed with breathtaking awe how amazing a party thrower Narcissa Malfoy was. Every tree and shrub lining the walkway was little up with twinkling lights.

"It looks like fairies," I commented and Astoria giggled.

"Narcissa has a bit of an obsession with fairies," she explained. "You should see her fairy garden."

We arrived at the front entrance and was immediately greeted, our invitations checked, and a glass of champagne placed in our hands.

"I have no idea how to do this," I said, trying very hard not to have a panic attack as I took in the large manor littered with prestigious, nicely dressed witches and wizards.

"I'll be here the whole time," Astoria assured. "Let's go find the husbands."

We made our way through the crowd and I tried to act normally, like I belonged there. Tried to remember how to breathe.

"My love," Blaise said, appearing out of the blue beside his wife.

"You don't even know how happy I am to see you," Astoria laughed, wrapping him up in a hug. He winked, took a swig out of her champagne glass, and kissed her on the lips.

"You look dazzling," he complimented and then nodded at Ginny and Hermione. "You two, as well."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Where's Draco and Harry gone off to?"

"Oh, Draco's around here somewhere, schmoozing with some high ranked member of society. Harry took a pit stop to the loo."

"Let's dance, Blaise," suggested Astoria, smiling up at her husband.

He took her hand gently in his and led them onto the dance floor, lost in their own little world. It was strange, seeing the affection they shared for each other, even after all this time. She wondered if that kind of love really existed, because she'd certainly never received it from Ron.

"I see some of my friends," Ginny told me. "Are you going to be okay by yourself or would you like to come with?"

I forced a smile. "No, you go ahead."

"If you see Harry, let him know I'll be by the refreshments."

I looked around the wide, elegant space of the manor. Despite the people I'd come to know over the last few months, I knew absolutely no one. I leaned against the doorframe of the drawing room with my arms crossed over my chest.

"These events can be quite overwhelming, can't they?"

I stared into the wintery eyes of Narcissa Malfoy, a bright blue gray. Her hair was long and sleek and her face as composed and severely beautiful as ever. She aged well, I noticed as an afterthought.

She gave me a genuine smile. "You never quite get used to them."

In response to my silence, she held out a glass of white wine and took the champagne from my grasp, placing it on the tray of a nearby bartender. I studied her carefully for a few moments.

"You always prefer wine more than champagne," she reminded me, gesturing to the glass. "After one glass, you won't be so nervous."

I brought the wine glass to my lips, taking a sip and glancing back to the couples dancing.

"Tell me, where is my son?" Narcissa asked and I gulped down far too much wine for my liking.

"Pardon?"

"Draco," she tried again. "How come he is not with you?"

"Blaise tells me he is otherwise occupied," Hermione explained. "I haven't seen him."

"I'll wring his infernal neck," muttered Draco's mother. "How dare he leave you alone, especially in your condition. You must be out of your mind."

I took a sip of wine in response, already feeling warmer.

"I'm probably not helping much, either," Narcissa laughed and pursed her lips. "You've no need to be nervous, my dear."

"I'm sorry," I finally choked out. "I'm not very fun tonight. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Come, I'm going to give you a tour of the manor," was Narcissa's frank reply. "Perhaps on the way, we'll be able to spot that clot of a man I call my son."

I took yet another sip of wine and we ascended the stairs to the upper floors. She swept me around the ground mansion like she had done it a million times, and knowing her, she probably had.

"This was Draco's old bedroom."

I barely had time to peek inside the cavernous, gothic ceilinged room before being pulled in the other direction. I'm sure she showed me every inch, every nook and cranny of the house, and I had to wonder if she was doing so in order to alleviate my stress and get me away from the crowd. Either that, or she was doing it for herself. Or perhaps she just wanted to prove to me that she wasn't the haggard old snake I'd since seen she was.

If that was the case, it was working exceptionally in her favor.

The end of Narcissa's tour consisted of her practically dragging me out into the back gardens and thus, our arms entwined, twisting down beautiful stone paths. The grass was cut to near perfection and was deep green. A pond with crystalline water and multicolored fish sat a ways off in the distance. She danced me around a beautiful gazebo, all lit up and covered with magnificent deep purple flowers. Every inch of her garden looked as whimsical and delicate as a fairy garden.

It was like I had been immersed inside a grand pureblood's fairytale.

The longer we went around the gardens, I started to wonder if it ever ended. And then she stepped up onto a bridge, issuing me follow her. A very familiar looking bridge with high lamps and a rushing river beneath us.

The bridge I'd seen in Draco's pensive, where Blaise had saved Draco's drunk self from throwing himself off this very bridge after the death of his father.

"Draco used to come here every day," Narcissa shared, her eyes faraway. "I never knew what for. To cry, to ponder, to escape. It was always his one place of solace growing up. He could spend endless hours on this bridge when the weather permitted.

"Draco proposed to you on this bridge," Narcissa told me.

"He _did_?" I gasped, thinking it was rather strange that he asked me to be his wife on bended knee on Malfoy property. I also thought it strange that I had been on Malfoy property anyway.

But wasn't I on Malfoy property now? Wasn't this strange too? And yet, didn't it make perfect sense?

"Your garden is exceptional," I complimented deeply and she patted my hand.

"I was actually the one that influenced you to start up decorative gardening after you lost your father," Narcissa whispered. "It was how I coped with Lucius's death and I figured it might help you."

After a while of pushing back involuntary tears, I said, "You're not at all what I expected, Narcissa."

"You know, the funny thing is, you once said that to me before."

"I did?"

"After we got to know each other and let go of our pride, yes. Of course, your pride was more easily vanquished than mine was. It took us a while, but I like to think we're pretty good friends now."

We were quiet for the rest of the evening, listening to the water rush by under our feet. Then, Narcissa insisted we go back to the party, deeming how important it is that we at least make appearances. Luckily, when we came back inside, Draco immediately spotted us, having been searching for us the entire night. I let him grovel and we enjoyed several dances before he showed me off to his coworkers.

By the time we returned home that night, I was exhausted and yet quite comfortable and loose, and I blamed it on Narcissa's wine.

"I felt so awful when I saw Ginny and Astoria, but you were nowhere to be seen," Draco apologized for the hundredth time that day.

"I had your mother," I answered with a smile, watching him loosen his tie. "She showed me around and kept me company."

"That I'm sure she did," he chuckled. "She nearly twisted my ear off when she finally had me alone, telling me how lousy I was for keeping you all by yourself on your first gala."

"Technically not my first," I pointed out and then tapped my head. "Just the first to me right now."

I tugged on my zipper again, annoyed that it still wouldn't budge after nearly five minutes of trying to get it down. Draco had since wandered off into the bathroom to change into his pajama bottoms in private so as not to make me uncomfortable.

"Draco?" I called. "Would you mind?"

He came out of the bathroom in nothing but his pajama trousers and was by my side in an instant, expertly drawing down the zipper of my dress. His fingers grazed the naked skin of my back and I shivered, closing my eyes. When he pulled away, my head snapped back into reality and I swallowed deeply, scuttling away to change in private.

When I returned to the bedroom, the lamp was the only light illuminating the room and Draco was reading. I climbed into bed and tapped my chin.

"Do you often go to these sorts of galas?" I asked, but he seemed not to hear me because the only reply was the turning of a page.

"Draco?"

Still no answer. And I thought _I_ got absorbed in my reading. Whether it was the wine or my own impatience to be listened to, I found myself roughly shaking him.

"What?" he wondered, peering over the top of his novel.

"You're ignoring me."

"I'm doing no such thing."

In response, I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm reading."

Feeling quite warm and comfy, surely from the wine, I found myself snuggling up to his lean arm, running my hand down his chest.

"Will you read to me?"

He smirked, rolling his eyes and nodding. I was out within minutes of the second chapter.


	24. Twisted Every Way

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

A/N: I apologize to those who are upset that I haven't updated in a while, or am not updating as much as they would like. I know how frustrating that can be, especially when you like a story. However, might I just remind everyone that I had been having a hard time updating because of finals (which are over) and a close death. Even so, I have not given up on this story. And you will get your ending soon :)

Enjoy it while it lasts, my dears!

-Annie

* * *

Twisted Every Way

I was suffocating.

The theater was incredibly crowded and far too warm for my liking, despite the fact that I was wearing a sleeveless black dress that came to my knees. I clutched my purse with slippery fingers, gripping Draco firmly with my other hand so as not to lose him.

"I hate crowds," he mumbled next to me, his eyes searching the distance for a break in the crowd.

I fanned myself with the playbill in response, watching a swarm of well dressed thespians prance past, eager for the show.

"Shall we go sit down?" I asked Draco as we wedged ourselves between a couple of college students.

"Well, if we can manage to make it to the bloody doors," Draco answered tightly, shoving a man aside with his elbow and a muttered 'excuse me'.

When finally we found our seats, Astoria and Blaise were already seated.

"Took you long enough," greeted Blaise.

"It's a mad house out there," Draco replied, sinking into the velvet cushioned seat gratefully.

"Looks like it's about to start," Astoria whispered, gesturing to the dimming lights.

I could barely contain my excitement when the overture began. _The Phantom of the Opera_ was my favorite musical and the last time I'd seen it had been with my father. And how sad it seemed to me that I was sitting here now with a man I'd hated as a teenager, and my father was now dead. Now, Draco sat here in his place, and though the thought should have bothered me, it didn't.

Halfway through the first act, Draco entwined our fingers together, sending sparks shooting through my veins. The play progressed slowly and beautifully and I sat quietly beside Draco. The feelings coursing through my body were like nothing I'd felt before. When the final act swept around the theater, I was so overwhelmed by feeling, I couldn't hold back my tears any further.

I let out a small stifled sob and Draco turned his head slightly to me. I was fully aware of the tears streaming down my face, completely aware that he was watching me, and yet I did nothing to cover up the weakness I was displaying before him. A still peace settled within me and I let myself be pulled into his arms.

When the applause broke me out of my peaceful stupor, Draco reached over and wiped the tears from my face.

"That was so beautiful," sniffled Astoria.

"It never ceases to amaze me," I agreed quietly.

We said our goodbyes with Astoria and Blaise, thanking them once again for the tickets and the double date, and walked out of the theater together. I shivered when the air brushed up against my naked shoulders.

"Are you cold, love?" Draco asked softly.

"No, I'm fine. It's just a little chilly out," I replied.

He removed his jacket and placed it around my shoulders, stroking my arms tenderly as he did so.

"Thank you," I said, smiling up at him.

We returned home quickly, as I was desperate to see my sons. They were in bed by the time we arrived home, of course, but I snuck into their room anyway, kissing the tops of their heads and brushing back their hair. I lingered just a moment more, turning in the doorway to gaze at their faces.

How could they feel so real? How could they really be mine? I was no longer sure of anything anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Draco's hand upon my shoulder lifted me from my thoughts. I nodded, allowing him to pull me into our bedroom.

"You seem so far away," he commented, brushing the hair from my face. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. It's just been an emotional night for me."

"Any particular reason why?" Draco wondered, rubbing my shoulders.

I patted his hand. "I'm just blown away with how much I have in my life."

"Getting sentimental, are we?" he laughed, teasing me.

"Oh, stuff it," I said, unable to fight the smile that twitched upon my lips.

Satisfied with my relaxing night, I sauntered into the bathroom to wash up for bed. When I crawled into bed, the lights were off and it appeared that Draco was fast asleep. I wish I had that luck, but tonight was harder than usual to fall into a peaceful slumber. I tossed and turned, trying my hardest not to wake the man sleeping soundly beside me.

After a while, I stilled, huffing and staring up at the ceiling. My body was exhausted, but my mind would not shut up. Eventually, despite my overactive thoughts, I fell asleep.

I dreamed.

In my dream, I was standing on a cliff, dressed in a lacy white gown. There air was slick with moisture, a bitter chill whipping my hair back and forth, slicing at the nakedness of my neck. The clouds above me were iron black and metallic. Below me, dark waves crashed roughly against the rocky cliff, hissing up at me and spitting at my face.

I couldn't help feeling like I'd had this dream before.

From the distance came my father, his smile large and lopsided like I remembered it.

"Dad," I whispered thickly, stifling back a strangled sob as his solid arms wrapped around me and I was engulfed in his scent_—_musky cologne and lemongrass.

"Hi, tiny," my father broached the silence tenderly, his voice thick with emotion and familiarity. He soothed me in the only way he knew how, his gentle hands stroking my hair like he had done when I was a child.

I gasped in a shuddery breath and steadied myself. I pulled back to gaze at my father.

"You've grown up so much. I'm so proud of you."

I hiccuped.

"I don't suppose I can call you my little girl anymore, can I?" he continued. "You're a lovely, mature young woman and you have your entire life ahead of you, Hermione. Please, don't dwell in the past."

"I'm just so confused, Daddy," I said, clutching him tightly. "What should I do?"

"It's okay to be confused, sweetheart," he comforted me, cupping my cheek. "You have to make your own decision, choose your own path."

Just then, a figure approached from the distance. Draco, with his halo of hair and his glimmering eyes.

"Does he make you happy, pet?" he asked me seriously. "Does he make you want to be a better person?"

I nodded slowly, staring at Draco and swallowing roughly. "He does."

"Do you make him a better person?"

"I think so," I responded after a beat.

"Do you love him, sweetheart?"

There it was. The ever fateful question I'd been running from for the longest time.

"Yes," I answered softly, a feeling of both relief and apprehension rushing through my veins. "I know that I do."

My father nodded. "Can you see your life with him? Can you see yourself being happy with him forever?"

I nearly choked, turning to stare at Draco, where he now stood proudly with Haden and Jasper. Behind him stood Pamela and Dennis, holding each other and smiling at me. Ginny and Harry and their children stood off to the right. To the left of them stood Astoria, Sebastian, and Blaise. Then, there stood the Weasley's. Off in the far distance I could see Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and all of the siblings.

And then I saw Ron. He stood next to Ariana with his two daughters beside him. And he looked happy. Truly happy.

"But what about Ron? What if this is a mistake and I'm really meant to be with Ron?"

My father studied me thoughtfully. "Make a decision, and then trust it to be the right one. I will always stand beside you."

I gasped, tears brimming in my eyes.

"You always have a choice, Hermione," my father explained, stroking my cheek. Below us, the waves of the ocean crashed darkly against the cliff. "Your destiny has always been in your hands."

"But I don't believe in destiny," I said petulantly. "And neither did you. Mum was the one that fed me petty stories about angels and witches that changed people's fates and let them have another chance. Not you."

"Everything happens for a reason, pet," my father noted quietly, and with those words it was as if someone had brutally ripped my heart from my chest. "It is what you do with what you are given that defines you, your path, and the people around you."

He was starting to disappear, along with everyone else.

"Trust your heart," he whispered, fading like the wind, holding his hand out to me to take. "And make your choice."

Just as I reached out to grasp his hand, he vanished completely in the blink of an eye, plunging my world back into frigid darkness and leaving nothing but my still-outstretched hand in his wake.

I awoke in a startled sweat, my hand reaching out for something left behind in my dream. The clock on the nightstand read four thirty-eight in the morning. Outside, the sky was a dark smoky gray.

My eyes drifted to the man sleeping next to me and I took in every greedy detail, as if seeing him for the first time, perfectly and incandescently clear. I noticed everything from the shape of his lips to the rise and fall of his chest and the tiny crescent shaped scar on his right shoulder.

And suddenly, something inside me broke. It was as if the dam had been destroyed, as if the Berlin wall surrounding my heart had finally crumpled to the ground. I had fought so hard against the situation I was in, fought so hard against Draco.

I never believed I could be so happy.

_Truly_ happy.

I didn't have to work at being happy every day when I was with him; it just came naturally. He challenged me, made me question everything.

I had been so fixed in my ways before all of this happened, so very stubborn and close minded about the direction of my life and my future.

And now, staring into the sleeping face of none other than Draco Malfoy, I no longer wondered who I was, or where I was going, because as long as I had him, I knew I would be okay.

Dare I think it? Dare I consider it? Was I really falling in love with Draco Malfoy?

Or had I already passed that threshold?

Before he could stir, I raced from my room, grabbing nothing else but my robe and some shoes from the downstairs closet. The air was mild and breezy, warm and moist, and my frigid body welcomed the damp warmth welcomingly as I tore down the road. I passed my mother's quaint house, winding up and down the walkways until I had reached the one place I hadn't been able to bring myself to visit since I found out about my father.

The iron gate creaked as I entered the small cemetery and passed the small chapel. It didn't take long to find my father's gravestone and I fell to my knees in front of it, clawing at the granite, my fingertips tracing the inscription of his name. Dew from the moist morning grass itched at my legs, soaking them through, but I remained in front of his tombstone for a good hour, just crying.

When finally the sun began to rise, I had no more tears to cry.

"Daddy," I croaked, still able to see his gentle and loving face from my dream. "Dad, I don't know what to do."

Unlike my dream, my father did not appear beside me with warm arms to take me in and tell me what to do. I felt like a little girl again, lost and confused, overwhelmed with feelings I'd never experienced before.

"I'm happy here," I confessed to the wind, staring at the horizon and the pink of the sun as it stretched across the beach, painting the ocean a beautiful peach color.

"And I shouldn't be," I snapped, suddenly angry. I grabbed a fist full of grass and then released it. "I grew up hating him him...but Daddy..."

I broke off, feeling the way my heart began to race in my chest, the breathlessness now enveloping my chest.

"I think I might love him."

There were no tears. There was no hesitation. No sickness in my stomach. No doubt.

And it amazed me so much, it knocked me senseless. I never dreamed, in all my existence, that I would love someone more than Ron Weasley. The school girl dream of marrying my best friend and living out my happily ever after with him was gone. I was not that girl anymore, and had to wonder if I really ever was.

When I finally returned to the house, the boys were wide awake and Draco was long gone. To my surprise, I found Ariana sitting on the counter in the kitchen with Ginny and Pamela, all in deep conversation.

"If it is a boy, we are going to name him Albus," Ginny was saying proudly, patting her stomach. When she spotted me, she broke into a large grin. "Hermione! Where have you been?"

I cleared my throat, hoping they couldn't see how emotional I still felt.

"I went for a walk," I responded, giving Ariana a hug.

She seemed a little better than she had been before and I was glad to see that she was now coming out of her house, but she still looked miserable.

"How are you?" I asked, stroking her arm as Pamela and Ginny discussed Dennis.

"I'm fine," she said.

"How are you, really?"

She sighed. "I'm better. I brought the girls home."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction," I told her.

"Isn't it?" Ginny said cheerfully, joining our conversation and wrapping her arm around Ariana. "And she even put on some mascara!"

Ariana rolled her eyes, almost laughing.

"We're taking Ari out on the town later. Do you want to join us?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed, looking into the backyard where the boys were jousting with sticks. "I should really spend some time with my children."

Ginny nodded in understanding, but pouted despite herself.

"But I suppose I could call Draco and see if he'd be willing to watch the children tonight," I said and my friends hooted excitedly in response.

The majority of the day was spent with me playing with my children and helping them with their studies. When five o'clock rolled around, Draco returned home and Pamela and I headed out to meet Ariana and Ginny at their choice of destination.

"A bar?" I scoffed. "Are you joking?"

Pamela shrugged. "I had no idea, I promise."

Ginny and Ariana met us halfway through the dim, downtown London bar. I look them both up and down, noting how Ariana is the best dressed one out of us in a daring red halter dress. Her hair has been teased and combed to perfection, falling beautifully down her back. Her cheeks, for the first time in a long while, are rosy pink.

"Ginny, what on earth were you thinking?" I demand as soon as we get to them, grabbing the redhead roughly. "You are pregnant."

"It's not like I'm drinking, 'Mione!" Ginny caws. "And we're seated in the non-smoking section. So, hurry up."

I trail behind her, agitated that I have been brought to a bar of all the places. Vaguely, I remembered a distant memory, maybe a dream of some sort, with a drunken Ron and a destroyed reception, a non existent wedding night.

"What are we doing here?" I asked Ginny as soon as we were all seated in a booth toward the back of the bar.

"And why is Ariana dressed like that?" Pamela wondered, her eyes trailing over to a very distracted Ariana.

"She's seducing her husband," Ginny explained to Pam and me and then pointed over to the corner of the bar where Ariana's eyes were locked.

"Ron's bar," I thought out loud, noticing Ariana's husband in the distance with all of his drinking buddies.

Just then, Ariana turned around in her seat and sighed.

"I don't think I can do this," she announced.

"Of course you can," snapped Ginny. "You are beautiful and stunning and you have everything he never knew he needed. Now, go make him see it. Make him see you."

"What if he doesn't?" asked Ariana worriedly, biting down on her crimson stained lip.

"He will," I comforted. "If you believe it, he will."

Pamela twined her arm around Ariana's and the two of them set off toward Ron to play their cards. I watched them until they were swallowed up in the crowd.

"What is with you?" Ginny asked me abruptly, carefully inspecting my face.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self conscious.

"You've been weird and distracted all day," she pointed out.

I blushed and looked down at the table, noticing the chips in the old wooden surface.

"Hermione?" she prodded again and I sighed.

"It's Draco."

Her nose crinkled.

"Did you have _another_ row?"

"No, no, it's not like that," I said hurriedly. "It's the opposite, entirely."

I watched as her eyebrows shot upward.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've been spending so much time together and___—_he's just so kind and romantic and___—_"

"You love him!" she spurted, nearly jumping right out of her seat. "Ah! It's happened! You've finally re-fallen in love with your husband."

I swallowed.

"Am I that obvious?" I asked her mutely.

"Only to me," she insisted, grasping my hand happily. "Draco's oblivious as tree bark. You should tell him."

"I should?" I blanched. "Wouldn't that complicate things?" "

Ginny snorted. "You mean put you outside your comfort zone? Yes."

I nodded, looking at our clasped hands.

"But it would only make things so much better in the long run, trust me, honey."

"You really think so?"

"He already loves you," Ginny notified me, rolling her eyes. "That's the hardest part of telling somebody that you love them; fear of rejection. Fear of them not loving you back. Take away all of that fear and what do you have? A good thing."

I nodded, knowing she was right.

"When are you planning on telling him?" asked Ginny.

I shrugged. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, actually," I laughed nervously. "I suppose when the right time presents itself."

Ginny shook her head. "There's never a _right_ time to tell someone you love them, Herm. When you feel the overwhelming need to tell him how you feel, it'll just kind of happen. You will have no control."

Before I could really take in her words, Pamela came plowing into our booth, beaming.

"She just kissed her husband."

"What?" both Ginny and I exclaimed.

"She practically pounced him," Pamela chuckled. "Or was it the other way around? Either way, it doesn't matter."

"Why is that?" laughed Ginny, straining to see through the crowd to catch a glimpse of Ari and Ron.

Pamela and I connected eyes before turning to Ginny and giving her the same look.

"Because Ron's coming back home."


	25. The Threshold

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

A/N: No, Destiny has not ended yet, hahaha. There's still more to come, but the ending is near. I love you all, my faithful readers. Let me hear more from you :)

-Annie

* * *

The Threshold

"Mummy."

"_Mum_, seriously. Hello?"

I shook my head, snapping my head up. _The Angel Of Destiny__—__A Tale Of Fate, Hope, And New Beginnings_ was halfway to the floor and I was barely grasping it. I had trailed off again whilst reading to the boys.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I apologized, rubbing my eyes.

"Are you sleepy, Mummy?" asked Haden, touching my cheek.

"No, not really," I replied, kissing his forehead. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"You keep stopping," Jasper told me, frowning. "You were telling us about that cool sorceress."

"Which one?" I wondered, not even remembering where I had been reading in the book.

"The Angel of Destiny," said Jasper.

"Is she really an angel, Mummy?" asked Haden.

I sighed, flipping through the pages until I landed on the story my mother had read to me when I was a little girl, but without the involvement of magic. There was a picture of Destiny on the left of the page and I stared down at it with unblinking eyes. Destiny was stunning, with knee-length white blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to see into your very soul even through the page. Her skin was pale and sparkling and she was much taller than I could ever be.

In the picture, she had wings jutting out from her back, pearly and large.

"I'm not sure, sweetheart," I replied. "I believe that she is whatever you want her to be."

"Can you finish reading, please?" pleaded Haden.

"And don't trail off this time, Mum," Jasper warned me, giving me a hard and stern look.

I laughed.

"Alright, alright," I replied and continued reading.

I barely understood what I was reading, my mind far away in a different plane. My thoughts were on the man a few doors down, working late in his study. I was still dressed in the green sundress I'd gone to the bar in with my friends. When I'd come home merely an hour ago, I'd been trampled by the boys and their eagerness to see me. Draco was grateful to finally be free of the boys, apparently very swamped in paperwork.

He had briefly explained that it was in preparation of his meeting tomorrow morning. I'd taken the boys upstairs and gotten them ready for bed.

But I was very eager to see my husband, which is why when the boys were finally in bed and the lights were off, I scampered out of their bedroom and down the hall. The door to his study was open just a bit and I peeked in.

Draco was seated at his desk, grumbling over a rather hefty pile of paperwork. He looked so worn out, it exhausted me to even look at him.

"Knock, knock," I said in lieu of a hello, walking into his office.

"Hi," he greeted in surprise. "I thought you'd gone to bed?"

I shook my head, perching myself on the edge of his desk.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" I asked him. "It's really late."

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. It might be a while."

"Have you taken a break at all today?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "No. No breaks."

"Well, Draco, it's really late," I reminded him again, pointing to his clock.

He sighed again.

"Maybe I could help you," I suggested. "What else needs to get done?"

"I'm just trying to organize now," he said. "I'm freaking out over nothing, but I want things to go perfect tomorrow. A lot is on the line and I have to do a good job."

"You always do more than a good job," I assured him. "And you aren't going to blow anyone out of the park tomorrow if you show up looking like a zombie."

He laughed. I brushed away his paperwork and took his hands.

"Forget the paperwork for tonight. Let's have an evening to ourselves and relax."

He raised his eyebrows, looking at me strangely.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I am," I told him. "Pamela and Dennis are downstairs; I'll ask them to keep an eye on things. Let's take a walk."

I let him finish organizing his files while I went downstairs to tell Pamela the plan.

"The boys are already asleep, but just in case," I told her and she rolled her eyes.

"We'll be up for a while," Pamela responded. "We'd be happy to keep an eye on the house."

"Thank you," I said, hugging them both.

I met Draco by the door and we closed the door quietly behind us as we entered the warm evening. The moon was large and bright, lighting the road as we weaved in and out of our neighborhood, toward the beach. My sandals made slapping noises on the pavement, puncturing our peaceful silence.

Draco reached over and grabbed my hand, entwining our fingers. Inside, my heart rippled. The sandy beach was now only a few steps away, so I led him to the pier and we dangled our feet off the side, watching as the tide came in.

"What's got you so distracted?" Draco wondered after several minutes of silence, the water lapping underneath us.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Just thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts?" Draco whispered, a smirk slithering its way across his face, making my insides warm. Still, I remained quiet, nibbling on my bottom lip. "Come on, 'Mione."

"Do you believe in destiny?" I blurted.

I avoided his gaze.

"Of course I do," he replied.

My nose scrunched up as confusion washed through me. "You do?"

He nodded. "I believe each of us has a destiny, a soulmate, somewhere they're going after they die. And it's you who taught that to me."

I laughed. "Please. That can't be true."

"Why?"

"Because I don't believe in destiny, or the story my mother read to me when I was a child and the one I read to the boys tonight. I make my own choices, I lead my own life."

"I never said you don't," Draco continued. "But even your choices lead to things. You choose what path to take, but it is that path that defines you, makes you who you are, leads you to the end of your story. Destiny doesn't choose for you, it simply provides the choices, and the path you go down after making your choices. I believe in that because Destiny brought me to you. Every single thing in my life has lead me to this point and everything happens for a reason."

I blinked at him, swallowing every word passing from his beautiful granite lips.

"The choices I've made, the mistakes I've made, the things I've said, all worked in bringing me to this night, here with you. I have to believe that, because you did once, as well. Something like what we have can't just be passed off as coincidence. It was fate. And I think we were made for each other and no matter what, we will always find out way into each other's lives."

By the time he was done, I found myself trembling, my heart beating wildly in my chest. Everything I'd ever known and gone by had been shaken since the day I woke up next to my enemy. And now, here I was, holding hands with that very same man, talking about destiny. I hardly remembered now who I was before all of this happened. It seemed so normal to me, living this life day by day with Draco, our children. And though parts of me still remained in the past, holding onto that notion that I was still Hermione Jean Weasley, still twenty-one years old and starting my life, I knew I was here with Draco now. And he was my present, my future.

If only I could remember my past...

"Any other questions?" he prodded, poking me teasingly in the ribs.

I shrugged, looking into his glacier eyes with uncertainty.

"Come on, I know you want to talk."

"Honestly? I want to get to know you better," I divulged softly. "I mean you are my husband after all."

He chuckled. "You know a lot about me already."

"Yeah, like your favorite color and how you like your tea, perhaps," I scoffed. "But what else don't I know about you?"

He laughed, put on the spot, his cheeks turning a bit red. "You need to be more specific, love."

"Well, who was your first kiss?"

"My first kiss? Why on earth do you want to know that?" he chuckled.

"Because that's something you ask someone you are with," I replied.

"With?"

When I refused to go deeper into my sentence, he let it go.

"My first kiss was Abigail Pugh," he told me. "I was a first year and it was a dare."

"You were that young?" I gasped.

He snorted. "Well, it was a dare, after all. How old were you when you had your first kiss?"

"You already know that, don't you?"

"Not exactly," he said. "I know it was with Viktor Krum."

"Fourth year. He kissed me before he left Hogwarts during the Tri-wizard Tournament."

Draco shook his head, rolled his eyes, and flexed his hand.

"Knew there was a reason I never liked him," he said, winking at me.

"Oh, stop it. Aside from Viktor, a forced kiss from Cormac McLaggen, and one when I was trapped under enchanted mistletoe with Neville Longbottom, I didn't have many boyfriends until Ron."

Draco tensed at the mention of Ron. He sighed and nodded tersely. "Yeah. You were a lot more innocent than I was. That's part of why I love you so much—your innocence."

We were silent for a little while after that, my head resting on his shoulder. Something about his comment bothered me. Like he thought I was some kind of child, naive and innocent, inexperienced. Sure, I was modest when it came to physical intimacy in relationships. It's why I was called a prude so much during school. The only person I'd ever gotten close to physically in _that_ way was Ron, but though we'd come close many times, I believe strongly in saving myself for marriage.

Perhaps that was prudish of me and unrealistic. Perhaps that's why I couldn't get any guys back in the day. And I'd always been proud of that fact, that I had the courage and the restraint to save myself for marriage, when that notion was incredibly out-dated.

But sitting here, next to the sex god of Hogwarts, I felt very small.

"All out of questions?" he asked a moment later.

I sighed, sitting straight and pushing the hair out of my face.

His fingers traced my cheek. "What is it?"

"I bet you had a lot of girlfriends," I said.

"No," he said. "I had a lot of flings and one night stands during a really dark spot in my life, but I only had three girlfriends."

"Three?"

He nodded. "Pansy Parkinson, but we were always better off as friends. Megan Rowstock and I were together for about a month before we broke up. And I briefly dated Scarlett Lympsham until she cheated on me with Theodore Nott."

He shrugged. "I was a player, I'll admit. I'm not proud of it. I never truly cared about a lot of women. I slept around because it felt good and I got bored. But I never really cared about the girls I slept with. That's why none of my relationships ever lasted long. No one ever connected with me in a deeper way than just sex and money and fame."

"Then why did you pay any attention to me?"

He scoffed. "How could I not? You always seemed so untouchable, so unreachable. You made me want to be a better person. You showed me that relationships were more than just sex, that you could connect with someone so completely without all of that. You made me want to change, and I did."

I smiled, but inside I still couldn't help the crumpling sensation inside me with the conformation that Draco had most definitely slept around. I hardly expected him to be like me, to value abstinence as I did. I knew that everyone made their own choices and he wasn't me and I wasn't judging. But it still made me feel like I'd been pushed off a cliff to find out other women had been with him that way.

Madly, horribly jealous.

"It was different with you," he said, as if reading my insecurity straight off my face. "You were well worth the wait. And unlike a lot of the times I had sex, I was completely sober with you. You actually meant something to me. I'd never had that. And it was one of the best nights in my life. I pushed you to the limit and we had a few close calls, but I always respected your decision to wait."

I blushed, a thousand images flooding my mind. He took my hand tightly in his and squeezed it.

"Hermione, don't be insecure, sweetheart," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my eyes. "You are my wife. You own my heart and from the moment we were brought together in Paris, no one else mattered. To this day no woman has ever come close to you. You are the one good thing in my life, and I never deserved you, but I'm so happy you chose to make me the luckiest man alive by staying with me."

Tears brimmed my eyes. No man had ever talked to me like that, and coming from Draco Malfoy, with such sincerity, knocked me breathless. Would he ever stop shocking me?

"We should probably head back to the house," he sighed, helping me to my feet.

We walked back to the house in tense silence. We bid our goodnight to Pamela and Dennis and ascended the stairs to our master bedroom. I decided to shower, hoping the warm water would clear my head. Relaxed and refreshed, I emerged from the shower, changed into my pajamas, and brushed my teeth.

But I felt more confused than ever. What on earth was I going to do?

I opened the door and stopped short almost immediately at the sight in front of me. Draco Malfoy, stripping off his shirt.

I swallowed loudly, but he didn't turn around. The muscles in his back rolled as he stretched. A strangled gurgle of a sound escaped my throat before I could grab it back.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, turning around at my entrance.

I nodded sharply, briskly walking over to the bed and turning over the sheets to climb in. I grabbed my novel from the nightstand, flipped on the lamp, and snuggled into my nightly routine as Draco escaped into the bathroom to change. Moments later he emerged from the bathroom, his fist clenched.

"Why do you still have this?"

I peeked up from over my novel questioningly. In my face he dangled a silver chain with a bright red ruby. It was hard to forget, that necklace. I gulped and sighed, taking the necklace into my hand. Engraved on the back of the ruby was these words, "With Love, Ron".

"I still have this?"

He glared at me hotly. "Obviously. Hermione, Weasley gave that to you___—_"

"When he asked me to be his girlfriend, yes, I remember," I finished softly. "It was his grandmothers. It was supposed to go to Ginny, but she hates rubies, so she gave it to Ron to give to me. It took almost all the money in his account to have it engraved."

"So, why the hell do you still have it?"

I shrugged, because I really didn't know. "I must've forgotten I'd had it. How'd you find it, anyway?"

"I accidentally knocked down one of your boxes in the closet when I was getting something and it fell out. What am I supposed to feel about you keeping your ex-fiance's keepsakes?"

"Really, Draco, that necklace means nothing to me now. I really must have forgotten I'd had it. I'm sorry. If you'd like I can return it to him."

Angrily, he ripped the necklace out of my hands and stalked back into the bathroom. Seconds later he returned.

"It's back in your little box. Obviously, since it means so much to you after so many years, you'll be wanting to keep it. Maybe wear it every now and again."

"Draco, don't be absurd," I said, sitting up straighter. "Why are you being like this?"

"Why do you think?" he snapped. "I feel like I don't even...Whatever."

"Draco, will you stop? Listen to me. I'm _your_ wife, not his. You know that I love you, so will you just relax? This is driving me crazy! Can't we just have one good night together?"

"_I'm_ driving you crazy? _I'm_ driving___—"_

He abruptly broke off from his fit, making a strange sputtering sound. And then I realized what I'd just done.

"I—I mean—um—"

"Did you just say—?"

I was frozen beneath the covers, the book in my hand clutched tightly.

"—that you love me?"

"No," I squeaked, jamming my eyes shut.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"You just said you loved me," he insisted breathlessly. "I heard it."

"You're imagining things, Draco."

"No, I'm not!" he exclaimed. "I've been waiting to hear those words from you for God knows how long. You said it."

This was too fast. I couldn't stop this. I didn't know what to do. The world spun chaotically around me.

"Oh," I said quietly. "Well, I suppose I did."

He blinked, standing like a stiff statue, his eyes wide and glistening. When he spoke next, his words were soft as dying embers and full of emotion.

"Do you mean it?"

_Don't be a bloody coward, _griped the voice in my head. _Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you?_

__I nodded.

"You do?" he croaked, stepping toward me.

"I do," I gasped, tears springing to my eyes despite myself. My heart felt like it was going to burst within me like a broken dam. I had never felt this way about anyone before. The feelings, so intense, coursing through my body were enough to make me capsize.

"It's crazy, and we haven't even gotten physically close, but I think that's what convinces me the most that I do love you. It's crazy, but I know in my heart I do."

He tried to hold back the tears, but they rushed out of him in relieved torrents, and we clung to each other, overwhelmed with emotion.

"I love you," I told him bravely, truly, and confidently, "and you are a wonderful man. I'm so sorry that it took me so long to see that."

"I've been waiting so long to hear that from you," he whispered deeply into my ear.

For the first time in a very long time, a genuine grin stretched across his beautiful face.

"And I've been waiting so long to do this, too," he said.

Before I could question him, his lips were on mine, locked and marking their territory. I gasped as he lit a fire inside of me that I never knew existed. I wanted more, more, more. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to kiss him like this until he sucked all the breath out of my lungs and I floated away. I wanted to___—_

"I'm sorry," he sputtered, breathless. A large grin spread across his face and his eyes twinkled like metallic stars. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you."

"You didn't," I insisted.

_Not in a bad way, at least._

"We can take this slow," he assured me, and though my body ached for him to take it fast, very fast, right here and now, I knew he was right. That was the best way for now.

"Okay," I agreed. "But can I have one more kiss before we go to bed?"

"You never have to ask," he told me with a smile, gripping the nape of my neck and pulling me to him. He kissed me deeply, softer and less urgent this time than the first time, but the fire was still there, muted and warm, begging to be let out.

Taking a deep breath, I settled into his arms, feeling his lips brush the top of my head, his heart pounding in my ear.

And as we drifted to sleep, I had to wonder what I had been so afraid of?

Loving the enemy, it seemed, wasn't all that terrifying a prospect after all.


	26. Crossing The Line

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

A/N: Here's an update for all of my wonderful readers. Thank you for all your reviews and support!

-Annie

* * *

Crossing The Line

"Knock, knock."

I shrieked in surprise, my file of papers exploding high in the air and clapping to the ground in all sorts of different directions. My hand smacked my hear, pressing against the silky material of my navy blouse. I cleared my throat, looking up at the person that had so suddenly interrupted my deep train of thought, and smoothed out the folds in my gray pencil skirt.

"Ginny, you gave me a fright," I breathed. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I'm springing you, of course," the redhead laughed, winking. "Have you taken your lunch break yet?"

My stomach growled in response.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Ginny assumed and grabbed my hand.

We headed to a local cafe for lunch, catching up. Ginny led me to a table in the far corner and I was surprised to see Ariana sitting at it, a small smile on her pink lips. Her hair was washed and curly, shining under the lights. We ordered soup and salad, or as Draco would call it, 'woman food'. While we waited, I filled them in on the event's of last night.

"You're kidding!" gasped Ariana, giving my hand a tight squeeze. "Hermione, that's wonderful. Oh, everything is coming together now, isn't it?"

I smiled at her, enjoying the way her eyes lit up and crinkled.

"Did you, you know, _do it_?" asked Ginny, ever so blunt.

"Ginny!" I exclaimed, looking about me nervously. "Is that all you really care about?"

Ginny shrugged and winked, nudging me. "Well?"

I swatted her arm. "No, of course not."

"I don't think she's ready for that yet, Gin," Ariana agreed, laughing at the red blotches appearing on my cheeks.

"Oh, come on," Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I bet it is going to happen sooner than you think."

"I'll bet twenty it won't be for another month," Ariana betted.

"I'll take it," Ginny agreed, nodding crisply. "I bet it will be two weeks tops."

They shook hands on it.

"Anyway," I continued, desperate to avert the conversation from my sex life. "How are you and Ron doing, Ari?"

Ariana sighed a little bit, but there was a smile on her face. "We're doing okay. He's still drinking, but not as much, and he promised to stop. I don't expect him to quit cold turkey, so I'm just trying to be patient and not paranoid that he'll run off again, you know?"

I nodded. We finished our lunch, deep in conversation, and then I returned to the Ministry, claiming I needed to catch up on my paperwork. The truth was, the file I had dropped in my surprise earlier when Ginny had visited me, was a file of reports I had already finished. So, instead of returning immediately to my office like I had said, I made a pitstop at the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"Hermione!" Astoria greeted me pleasantly, emerging from behind her secretary desk and hugging me tightly. "What a surprise! Do you have something to drop off?"

I shook my head. "I was hoping to see Draco, if he wasn't too busy."

"Let me check his schedule," she said and returned to her desk. "He should have just gotten out of his meeting a few minutes ago. He's probably just finishing up."

I checked my watch.

"Do you think it went well?" I asked Astoria quietly.

She crossed her fingers. "I'm hoping so. He deserves it. Blaise was asked last minute to join the meeting, so I'm hoping it went well for him, too."

"Well, that's wonderful," I commented sincerely. "How many openings do they have? Draco didn't say."

"Three or four?" Astoria guessed. "They selected a lot of people for the meeting, though, so the chances are not looking too kindly in their favor."

We waited together for several more minutes before I started to worry about time.

"Shouldn't they have been out by now?" I asked Astoria and she nodding, checking Draco's schedule again.

"They should have been out nearly forty minutes ago."

As if right on cue, the door opened and both Draco and Blaise entered with a few others. They all looked grave.

"How did it go?" Astoria asked once Blaise had stopped by her.

"Well," Blaise sighed, "there were a lot of candidates. Only four were chosen out of fifty."

I swallowed, measuring Draco's face carefully, but he was expressionless.

"And?" I pressed, taking Draco's hand. "What happened?"

"Why were you so late? Did the meeting run late?" Astoria wondered. "Did you not get it?"

Just then, Draco and Blaise both erupted into huge grins.

"Got you!" they cried, high-fiving each other like they were little boys playing pranks on their mothers.

Astoria and I blanched.

"You got the promotion?" Astoria exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

"You, too?" I wondered and they nodded.

"Isn't that great? Me and Draco, working together," Blaise laughed. "We had to stay late for an interview."

"Which location are they sending you to?" wondered Astoria and I furrowed my brow.

"Rome," Blaise told her, eyes burning, and Astoria nearly screamed, flinging her arms around her husband. "We're going to Rome, baby! Pick out your best dress, my dear, because the Ministry is throwing us a celebration party to introduce us tonight."

"What are they talking about?" I asked Draco, taking him aside after congratulating Blaise. "What did Astoria mean by location?"

"They had four positions open for advancement," Draco said. "Italy, Russia, Spain, and Paris. Blaise knows Italy like the back of his hand, so it didn't take long for him to convince them to let him be over Italian communications."

"I'm still very confused," I said. "What does that mean?"

"It means he will be traveling to Italy for a few weeks to conduct some meetings with the Italian Ministry."

"And you?" I wondered.

"I had already been doing a lot of work on the French Ministry and dealing with a lot of problems arising within it, as you know," Draco explained slowly. "They saw how dedicated I was at trying to help our Ministry make peace with the French minister that they promoted me to the Paris division."

"Does that mean you will be going to Paris?" I gasped.

"Yes," he said, delighted. "It won't be as easy as Blaise's job, because Italy isn't currently having any problems with us right now, they just haven't been responding to a lot of our proposals, so Blaise is going there personally to express our views."

"I have every confidence in you," I told him, hugging him tightly and kissing him, my heart fluttering as I did so. "If anyone can talk the French minister out of his paranoia, it's you."

"Thank you," he said, gripping me tighter. "There is one more thing I forgot to mention to you, though."

"What is it?"

"I'm allowed to bring another person with me," Draco whispered in my ear. "And since you are my wife, I was hoping you would accompany me."

"You want me to go to Paris with you?" I stuttered, laughing. "Of course!"

I hugged him tightly.

"Oh, wait," I sighed. "I can't leave the children for that long."

"I already talked to Pamela, actually," Draco revealed to me guiltily. "I didn't want to get your hopes up if I didn't end up getting the promotion, but I wanted to make sure arrangements could be made if I did."

"You're just so full of surprises, aren't you?" I chuckled. "Anyway, I really should get back to work. I took far too long, but I'll see you tonight?"

"I love you," he said in lieu of a goodbye, pecking me gently on the lips.

I wanted to sink into his kiss, press my lips harder against his, but we were just outside his office and I needed to get back to work. Another time, perhaps.

"I love you, too," I whispered in his ear and watched him smile as I left.

When I returned to the office, I quickly finished the remains of my work, gathered the scattered files, and handed the enormous pile of parchment to Harry before heading home to get ready for Draco's big night.

"Pamela!" I shouted as soon as I burst into my house. "Pamela!"

She bustled out of the kitchen, Dennis in tow.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Are you busy?" I wheezed, nearly running to her side.

"No," she answered. "Your mother rang earlier and she's taken the boys swimming with her friend, Carol, from down the lane. I was just cleaning the kitchen a bit. We made cookies and it's a bit of a mess."

"An understatement," Dennis chuckled.

"Well, cleaning can wait, I'm afraid," I told her. "I'm going to need your help. Draco got the promotion at the Ministry and the celebration is tonight, and I've no clue what to wear."

"Dennis, please be a dear and finish up for me, will you?" asked Pamela sweetly. "I have an emergency."

Dennis rolled his eyes, muttered something that sounded oddly like 'women', and trampled back into the kitchen. Pamela hurried me up the stairs, stripped me down, and shoved me into the shower. While I took the quickest shower of my life, Pamela busied herself in my closet, trying to find the perfect thing for me to wear.

I was drying off by the time she came back, holding a scarlet red number in her hands.

"Quick, do a drying spell on your hair," she said and I did, my hair instantly dry. "Good, now I don't trust you to manage your own hair right now, so hurry and climb into this and I'll work on your hair."

I slipped the silky dress on and nearly blanched. It was a beautiful silk dress that flowed to my ankles and swished elegantly when I moved. It clung to every curve on my body and tied around my neck like a halter, exposing the nakedness of my back. Pamela pinned my unruly curls into a glossy up-do, sprinkled my lips with red lipstick, and threw a pair of silver strap heels at me.

"You'll need jewelry, too," she said, "but good luck finding any that will go with that dress. Haden got into your jewelry box earlier."

My eyes flickered to the little black box in my closet, knowing exactly what piece of jewelry would go perfectly with this outfit. I unclasped the lock on the box and pulled out the silver chain with the ruby dangling on the end, sauntered over to the mirror, and watched my fingers lock the chain around my neck.

I swallowed painfully. It felt wrong wearing it, but it was all I could find. Besides, I was going to the Ministry. Maybe I could just drop off the necklace at my desk and send it over to Ron's office in the morning.

Draco arrived moments later, kissing me briefly before going to get ready himself. Luckily, he didn't notice the necklace nestled in my cleavage. He came down the stairs moments later, dressed handsomely in a black tuxedo.

We arrived at the Ministry, where the Atrium had been decorated to meet the approval of the guests. It was packed full of guests. Even the Minister of Magic himself was there. The party itself was slow and formal, mainly consisting of me clinging to Draco as he introduced himself and his wife to significant members of the department. It took all that I had not to break my face from all the smiling.

I was burning by the time the party was starting to dwindle and the final announcements were made. Draco, Blaise, and the two others were escorted to meet with the Minister and the Head of the Department of International Cooperation for details on their assignments.

Astoria and I made small talk with the other wives while we waited for our husbands.

"Ready to go home?" Draco asked tiredly when he reached me again.

"You go ahead," I told him, kissing his cheek. "I just remembered I needed to stop by the office really fast. I won't be long."

"Okay, I love you," he said, smiling widely. "I'll see you at home."

He took off toward the fireplaces and I headed the opposite direction, toward the lift. When I reached my level, I exited and headed to my office. The lobby was dark and the candles on the walls dimly sprang to life at my movement.

"Hello?"

I nearly buckled in the process of unlocking my office.

"Who's there?" I replied.

"Hermione, is that you?"

I clamped my eyes shut, breathing in through my nose. He really had the perfect timing, didn't he?

"Good evening, Ron," I greeted stiffly.

I couldn't help but notice how tired he seemed, his fiery hair a mess, a light stubble appearing on his chin. His eyes found my form and raked up and down my body, from my silver shoes, to my revealing dress, to my lips.

"You look incredible," he breathed. "Why are you so dressed up?"

I swallowed.

"If you must know, I'm actually here on business," I replied. "The Ministry is throwing a gala in honor of Draco's promotion."

"Promotion, eh?" Ron grunted, sticking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Interesting."

"Yes, anyway, I really should be going," I said, feeling uneasy.

"You just got here," he protested, grabbing my hand. His palm was slippery with sweat and I wiggled out of his grip, stepping back.

"I just had to stop by the office for a minute," I told him.

"Almost like fate, you and I ending up in the same place tonight," Ron said, cornering me.

"I wouldn't say that," I argued.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately, Hermione," he confessed. "I had been hoping to talk to you, and now here we are, all alone."

"It's rather late," I snapped. "Shouldn't you be home with your wife and children?"

It was like he hadn't even heard me. He grabbed my hands again, his wide eyes pleading with me. My heart raced in my chest. In another time, I would have craved this touch, this attention. But now? I recoiled from it. It seared me like a hot iron brand.

My back hit the wall.

"Ron, really, this is hardly appropriate," I said.

He was very close now. I could almost taste the alcohol on his breath.

Whiskey. His favorite vice.

"You promised Ariana that you would stop drinking, Ronald," I said, shaking my head. "You should be home with her."

"Do you ever think about how things might have been, if you and I had stuck things out? If I hadn't messed up our relationship?"

"Like how you are messing up the one you have now? In almost the exact same way?" I countered.

"I could have been a good husband to you," he said. "I still love you, Hermione. You have a choice. You don't have to stay with Malfoy just because you are married to him. You don't remember him, yet you remember me. Come away with me."

"No. Go home."

"How can you stand there, acting as if you don't still have feelings for me, when you're wearing my necklace."

I gasped, gazing down at it.

"You kept it, after all this time?"

Before I could protest, his lips were crushing mine, his fingers gripping my wrists and pinning them against the wall. He nibbled my neck, my earlobe, tugged lightly on my hair. His tongue invaded my mouth, slipping past my lips. I could taste the whiskey, bitter and hot on his tongue.

I struggled, protesting, but he pushed me harder against the wall. My body weakened, remembering his touch, how he once controlled that timid fire inside of me. But it felt wrong, oh so wrong. I no longer craved that from him. I craved it from the man I loved. The man who was taking me to Paris with him. The man waiting for me in our bed at home.

It took more strength than I had, but I finally managed to push Ron back.

_Smack._

"How dare you!" I shrieked, smacking him hard across the face again. "You have a wife! I have a husband!"

"A husband you don't remember getting married to! One you don't love!"

"How can you assume that I don't love him? How can you assume that I love _you_?" I snarled. "What we had is over and long gone."

He timidly touched his cheek. "_Do_ you love him?"

"He's my husband," I snapped, lifting my chin.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yes, I love Draco Lucius Malfoy, with all of my heart and with every fiber of my being," I growled, watching his eyes snap closed in pain. "You have to stop living in the past, Ronald. The real question you need to be asking is, do you love Ari?"

"Yes."

And he began to sob.

"Then go to the local cafe and get some coffee, sober up, and talk to her," I instructed. "This, between you and me? It never happened. Forget about it. And _never_ drink again, just as you promised."

He nodded. "You're right. I'm very sorry, Hermione."

He started heading toward the door.

"Ron, wait," I called to him.

He turned around, his eyes hopeful.

"I believe this belongs to you," I said, unclasping the silver chain around my neck.

He swallowed painfully. "It was a gift, Hermione. It's yours."

I shook my head. "No. I don't want it. It isn't right for me to keep this when I love another man. Sell it, if you must, but I won't be keeping it any longer."

I walked the short paces to him and closed the distance between us, grabbing his hand and forcing the chain into it.

"Goodbye, Ron."

The door slammed behind me.

When I returned home and entered my bedroom, I was shaking with emotion.

"Hermione?"

I continued walking until I reached the bathroom, where I gripped the counter tightly.

"Are you alright?"

I took in a steadying breath, felt Draco rub my back, felt me shudder.

"Are you sick?"

I shook my head and dared myself to look up at him through the reflection in the mirror. When I did, his eyes narrowed darkly, zoning in on my face. I gazed at myself in the mirror, seeing what he saw. My red lipstick was smeared all over my face and I had a bright red bite mark on my neck. My hair had come unpinned, falling chaotically down in clumps of bobby pins.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

I took in another breath. "I went back to the office so that I could place the necklace that Ron had given me into an envelope and have someone drop it in his inbox in the morning. I knew how much it upset you that I had it and I saw no need to keep it, but when I got to the office, Ron was there, working late and drinking."

I could feel Draco's fingers tightening on my shoulders, his eyes searing into the spot Ron had marked on my neck.

"Did he do this to you?" he demanded.

"He was drunk, Draco. He didn't mean anything he said," I argued. "I ended it, smacked him, and told him to go home. Then I gave him the necklace and came straight home. I promise nothing else happened."

"He_—_He _kissed_ you? He_—"_

He didn't finish his sentence, too overwhelmed with anger. Instead, he let out a large howl of rage and smashed his fist into the door. The door swung back, hitting the wall loudly.

"Draco!" I shrieked, grabbing him. "You'll wake the boys!"

He was shaking in rage. I'd never seen him lose his temper quite like this, not in a very long time. Hesitantly, I came over to him and wrapped my arms around him.

"I love you, Mione," he whispered thickly. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"I understand why you are upset and it is perfectly normal. I'm sorry that something like this had to happen on your big night. If I'd known he would be in the office alone, I wouldn't have gone. I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you, baby," he said quietly. "I never want to lose you. Just the thought of it_—_of him touching you_—_"

"Shh, I'm not going anywhere, Draco," I promised. "Remember? I love you."

He sighed deeply, hiding his face in my messy hair.

"I never get tired of hearing you say that."

And then we were kissing. Kissing just like I wanted to be kissed, and by the only man I wanted to be kissed by. Somehow we found ourselves on the bed, the zipper of my dress magically drawn down, the buttons on his dress shirt halfway undone and his tie lying forgotten on the floor.

"Erm..."

He pulled away, feeling my palm pressing against his chest.

"Right," Draco said, shifting off of me.

"No, come back," I urged, pulling him back to me. "I want to, I do, I'm just not ready."

"I know. I promised we'd take it slow," he said.

"I want to be close to you, though," I told him, snuggling up to his chest. "Just no funny business, okay? Remember our contract?"

He smiled, rolled his eyes, and nodded.

"We have all the time in the world, love."


	27. To Paris, With Love

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

A/N: Now we are getting somewhere, yes? Haha, thank you again for all the love and support from all of my readers.

-Annie

* * *

To Paris, With Love

"Would you like your receipt in the bag or with you, Madame?"

"With me, please. _Merci,_" I answered as the trim saleswoman wearing far too much orange blossom perfume returned the credit card to me.

I slid the card into my wallet along with the receipt, keeping track of how much money I'd spent, mentally counting in my head. After fourteen days of shopping, dining, and sightseeing, I had bought enough souvenirs and trinkets to give to practically everyone I had ever met.

Normally, I would refrain from spending such copious amounts of money, but Draco insisted I have fun and that money was not an issue. I think he felt guilty since he had been spending so much time pursuing work matters. I had hardly seen Draco, so I occupied my time in the streets of Paris. I toured, I spied, I studied, I observed. Anything to keep me entertained and my thoughts away from my missing Draco.

As I exited the shop, I snapped open my umbrella. The rain was steadily coming down now. My fingers reached up toward the charcoal sky, letting the droplets attack my hand viciously. I sighed, checking my watch. Normally, at this time, I would be able to see the glorious sunset, drooping past the Eiffel, but it had been raining all day.

The café located a few stores down was bustling with chatty customers, eager to escape into its warm, dry depths. I sat down at one of the remaining empty tables and ordered a hot chocolate with a heaping of whip cream. French hot chocolate, I noticed, was my favorite thing to order so far. I ordered a gourmet sandwich and salad and stuffed my shopping under the table. When I was certain no one was looking, I shrank five of the bags and dropped them into the remaining bag. It would be much easier to carry one bag instead of six heaping ones.

Despite how busy the café was, I received my dinner in a matter of minutes. I scarfed it down, surprising myself by how famished I'd allowed myself to become. After paying, I retrieved my bags, left the café, and opened my umbrella.

I proceeded to hail for a cab, knowing I needed to head back to the hotel so that I could get ready. Tonight, I would be meeting Draco at the Paris Opera, where we would be attending _Macbeth_ with the French Minister and his lovely wife, Adrienne. Whenever Draco would bring me along to business dinners with the Minister and his executives, I spent much of the dinner discussing politics and fashion with Adrienne.

The cab driver dropped me off on the side of the road by my hotel. I paid him the hefty fare and hurried out of the rain. Back in the suite, I jumped into the shower. The hot water made me feel better almost instantly, but did nothing to calm my anxious nerves. I had been looking forward to seeing Draco all day.

I wrapped myself up with a fluffy peach towel and ran through the motions, diving into my new selections of outfits. I picked a pale rose chiffon dress and black pumps, drying my hair and styling it in a smooth up-do. Snatching my black clutch and spritzing a few whiffs of rose scented perfume, I whisked out of the suite and ordered yet another cab.

The Paris Opera glittered gaudily in the darkening evening, casting its illuminated shadow across the dark. It was truly a sight to behold, but more important and more stunning than the architecture I'd dreamed of seeing for years, was the man waiting outside the large brass doors, his hand outstretched.

"I've missed you," I breathed, slipping my fingers expertly through his.

In response, his eyes flashed with an emotion I knew too well-longing. He planted a small kiss on my cheek as he elegantly ushered me inside the opera's front doors, guiding the pair of us gracefully through the crowd, showing me off as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Draco flashed his ticket to the usher and we were hurried to our box seats, off to the left of the stage, where we were greeted welcomingly by the Minister and his wife.

"Don't you just adore Shakespeare?" gushed Adrienne excitedly, gripping my hand tightly. "I've been waiting all season for _Macbeth."_

I dropped into quiet conversation with Adrienne as Draco and the Minister engrossed themselves in heated discussion. More business. The lights dimmed moments later and I sat forward in my chair, watching the deep crimson curtains roll back, revealing a glossy stage. The chandelier hanging majestically from the ceiling blinked beautifully upon the newly polished wood.

By the end of Act II, the Minister and Draco seemed to have slowed their conversation, appearing more relaxed and pleasant with each other. Following Intermission, Adrienne and I came back to the box to find both men sifting through the program, wondering when the show was going to end. I snickered, patting Draco's hand, lightly reminding him that this was business and he had a very important job to do.

We only had one more day in Paris before the Minister could make his decision and we would travel back to London.

"How are things going?" I wondered as the lights fell once more and the Minister turned his attention toward the stage.

"I've made some serious headway," Draco divulged, "but he's so cryptic. I wish he weren't so hard to read."

By the end of Act IV, both men were fast asleep, Adrienne was fanning herself in anticipation of the climax of the opera, and I was rolling and unrolling my program repeatedly in my lap, anxious for this night to be over and hoping desperately that everything we'd done in these three weeks in Paris had not been in vain.

_Macbeth_ deserved a grand standing applause and the house roared in appreciation. Draco yawned and the Minister chuckled, clapping him roughly on the back.

"Adrienne loves the opera," he explained to Draco and I, gazing at his jubilant wife, jumping up and down in delight. "However, I can never make it past the second act without falling into the deepest sleep of my life."

"Opera is death," Draco groaned and the Minister laughed boldly.

"The night is still young, I believe, my friend," the Minister claimed as we exited the grand opera and into the starry Parisian night. "Hows about we head back to my office and have a few drinks?"

Adrienne was more than happy to bring me along to her lavish home, but I was already exhausted and completely spent, so after a promise to go shopping with her while the men were in meetings tomorrow, she allowed me to head back to the hotel. I missed Draco greatly, but I knew he needed to close this deal with the Minister.

He was so close.

By the time Draco arrived back at the hotel, I had showered and dressed in the black silk nightie I'd woken up in next to Draco the morning I discovered we'd been married for eleven some odd years.

When Draco stepped through the suite doors, a bouquet of roses in his left hand, a bottle of wine in the other, and a glorious grin on his face, I knew tonight had gone well. He swooped me into his arms, pranced me around the room, and we laughed for several seconds.

"Did he agree?" I asked, breathless.

Draco shook his head. "Not quite, but tonight moved mountains, 'Mione. I'm so close."

"I'm so proud of you," I told him, stroking his cheek.

Outside the open balcony doors, a light Paris breeze drifted in from the bustling streets below.

"But, then again, I could be totally wrong," Draco said solemnly. "And tonight could have been a complete bust and tomorrow he'll inform me that he's been pulling my leg and laugh in my face. Then I'll be fired and my mother will be so cross, she'll rip away the last of my inherintence and blow up our home and we'll be forced to send the boys to a government home and live in a cardboard box in some desolate cave, hiding from the world and dining on raw fish for the rest of our lives."

I let out a loud giggle. "You are so dramatic!" I smiled tenderly at him. "I'll have you know, though, that should this whole ordeal turn out to be a complete disaster, I would much rather spend an entire lifetime with you in some rotting cave than to spend one day with anyone else."

I pressed my lips gently to his, surprising him him with the suddenness of it. I pulled away to stare deeply into his eyes, to something deep beneath the surface, breathing to life. A spark of longing held back for so long, finally fully enflamed.

As fiercely as the fire building in his eyes, we surged together, his lips crushing mine in an urgency I'd never experienced. Grabbing a handful of my wild locks, he brought me ever closer to him.

His tongue danced with mine, and I whimpered softly, desperately, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. Never ceasing his ministrations, he rid himself of his buttoned shirt, letting it and his tie collapse to the ground. He clutched my neck firmly while his other hand grazed down my leg until his fingertips brushed my thigh.

He stopped suddenly, startling me. Clamping his hand tightly on my thigh, he tore away from my mouth to stare into my eyes, now glassy with desire.

"Hermione, I'm sorry_–_" his words came out a shaky breath. "You said you wanted to wait -"

"Draco, I've been ready for quite some time now."I felt my face flush at my whispered admission. "There's just never been a moment to tell you so."

_God_, I thought, shocked, _how I want this to happen_!

Trembling, Draco's hand moved slowly up my thigh.

"Are you...certain?" he asked deeply.

I nodded, and though my heart beat inside my chest like a hummingbird's wing, there was no turning back for me. No hesitation filled my essence when I crashed my lips to his, when his throaty groan escaped his throat, and when we fell back into the king sized bed.

Stars and blinding sunlight. Heat and fire and breath escaping too fast from my lungs. We made love like we would never have a chance to ever do so again.

"I love you," I panted when we had finished.

He looked for the sheet to pull over us, covering our bodies with the coverlet, a flood of red petals sprinkling over us in the process. During our haste, we had ruined the bouquet, showering the bed with the remains of the once full flowers.

"I like the petals," I breathed, fingering one velvety ruby colored petal.

"Despite the fact that we destroyed them?"

"I think it worked out quite nicely, don't you? Rose petals on the sheets as we make love? Romantic."

He smiled warmly and kissed my damp and wild hair, placing his hand on my chest. I sighed in satisfaction.

"I knew everything would work out," Draco stated. "I never stopped believing that you would come back to me. Something like what we have can't be kept down once it has been started. No matter what, we'll always find a way back to each other."

"And you believe that is our destiny?" I sighed. "To find each other?"

"I believe we are meant to be, and one way or another you'll come to realize that, whether it be an act of destiny or choice, or something of a higher power. We were meant to cross paths, and even if we die this very instant, we'll find each other again. Our souls are connected. Enemies, friends, lovers, whatever it may be-I can't live my life without you in it."

Though my heart surged with an overwhelming power and tears threatened to fall from my eyes, I just smiled and touched his chest, feeling his heart beat under my palm. Perhaps he was right. One way or another, in whatever circumstances, perhaps we were meant to cross paths, and certain events and choices we'd made had lead us to where we were today. To this moment.

Perhaps...

"Has anyone ever told you that you are crazy?" I joke, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"Crazy for you, perhaps," he growled and I gasped when he brought me down gently to lie across the bed and slowly moved over me once more, his eyes aglow with emotion.

"Again?" I whispered, shocked and hopeful.

"Again."

And we melted into the Parisian night air once more, blanketed in roses.


	28. Destiny

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from the Harry Potter universe. This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and nothing more.

**A/N:** Here it is, my lovelies...This had been a wild, long ride. I've given birth to this story, nurtured it, hated it, tore it to shreds, cried about it, slaved over it, and dedicated so much of myself to it. I've wanted to give up, but it was you that encouraged me to keep going. As the characters have grown and gone through trials, as have I. Lessons learned, battles conquered, tears shed, smiles bred, and here we stand, my friends, at the end of our journey.

It's been a ride, loves. It pleases me and saddens me to bring to you...Destiny. The Final Chapter.

I recommend, for the full effect I had whilst writing this, that you listen to **_'Time'_**, from the movie _Inception_, composed by Hans Zimmer, on **_repeat._**

So, grab some tissues, crank up your volume, and nibble on some deeply needed chocolate for your dear author, and enjoy.

-Annie

* * *

Destiny

I had been here before.

In a dream?

I was standing on an icy precipice, watching the white capped waves crash murderously against the jagged rocks of the cliff I was mounted on. Above me the sky burned black, smoking and slithering, roaring down at me. Fierce veins of lightning pierced the sky, raising the hairs on my slick skin. Moisture struck me, freezing and slicing my flesh. I knew I should go find shelter, take cover from the storm before it tore me apart and I tumbled away, but my feet were grounded and I could not move.

Somehow, I was able to turn to glance behind me. There stood the balcony doors, the peach satin curtains billowing ghostly in the freezing rain. Inside slept a prince, his handsome face relaxed and far away in dreams, his chest bare. Soft pink sheets, muted like sunrise, sprinkled in dark crimson petals, laced around the lower half of his body.

When had I gotten out of bed? Had I been sleepwalking?

Even if I had been sleepwalking, it made no sense how the balcony of a hotel smack dab in the middle of a busy, bustling Paris street would have turned into the very same cliff I'd dreamed of before.

"Hermione."

Whipping around and leaving the sleeping Draco behind, my eyes registered Ron, his hair like a signal fire, blazing in a backdrop of gray and black shadow.

"Ron?" I said, my voice trembling. "Why are you here?"

I turned to glance back at the hotel and Draco, knowing he would be furious if he found Ron and I together, but I gasped, recoiling at its absence.

The hotel was gone, replaced by a thunderous black sky and a large stretch of land.

None of this made sense. Was I dreaming? I was certain I wasn't. It all felt so real...

"What are you doing out here?" he wondered, his voice sounding as frigid as the breeze toying with our hair.

Deja vu nearly plowed me straight over the edge of the cliff.

"I don't know," I sincerely replied, flabbergasted, gripping my nightgown tightly in my hands. The wind blew the soft material around my knees, raising goosebumps on my bare legs and feet.

"Come with me," Ron suggested, reaching for my hand.

I tried to move toward him, reaching my hands for him, but my body remained where it was, too close to the cliff, frozen to the ground.

"I can't," I told him and he frowned.

"Yes, you can," he pleaded and I watched as he stepped closer to the edge of the cliff, closer to me. "It's not too late. Please."

"Ron, I can't," I told him again, but I was unable to tell him why. I couldn't tell him why my feet were frozen to the icy earth.

"Why? What are you waiting for?" Ron asked stonily.

"I'm not sure exactly."

The wind howled and Ron's fury magnified itself in blazing fire. He clutched my face and turned my head to stare into the distance, where a bright figure was emerging through the darkness. "It's because of him."

"Draco?" I whispered, unable to look away from him as he approached.

"Please, come with me," Ron begged again, gripping me tighter, pulling at me.

Something in my stomach jolted and I looked between him and Draco. Everything in me ached for him, but Ron still gripped me tightly, not allowing me to leave.

"You have a choice, Hermione," Draco whispered, suddenly by my side, his light reflecting off my gown. "You always have a choice."

"You have to come with me, please," Ron said again. "You can't choose him. Not after everything we've been through."

"The time is now, Hermione," Draco whispered, gripping my other hand. "It is time now. You must make your choice."

"I love you," Ron told me, urging me toward him.

"I love you, as well," Draco confessed in a hushed tone, only for me to hear. "But you must make your choice. Whichever you choose, I love you."

Just then, a jagged slice of lightning collided with the cliff, breaking the rocky ground upon which Ron was standing. The force of his fall caused me to crumble to the earth, my hand still tightly woven with his. I was no longer frozen and as he struggled not to let go of my hand, I began to slide painfully off of the cliff with him. The only thing keeping me from completely leaving the ground was Draco, for my other hand was still gripping his.

"He will only bring you down with him, love," Draco told me, his gray eyes luminescent and pleading with me. So much emotion. So much. "Please, for both your sakes, let him go."

The pain was so immense it was almost blinding as I slid closer and closer to the edge, allowing Ron to drag me down. Soon, if I didn't choose, I would tumble off into the dark, rocky abyss.

"I can't," I protested, a sob in my throat. "He'll die. He won't make it."

"He's stronger than you think," Draco insisted, squeezing my hand. "You don't have to meet the same destiny that he does. There is always a choice."

The sun glimmered behind a gray cloud, forcing the cloud to break apart and make room for its light. It shined down on Draco and the world became soft and calm and beautiful. The trees were plentiful with fruit, the grass was bright and lush, and our house—mine and Draco's—stood glimmering in the distance. A few paces away stood Haden and Jasper, both bright in countenance and pleading like Draco. Beside them stood Pamela and Dennis, holding hands.

The thought of leaving them all behind was more painful than the rocks crushing and ripping my abdomen as I slid toward Ron and the blackness of the sea.

"The only way to move forward, for us, for _them_—" Draco said, gesturing to the individuals behind him, "—is to let go of what you are holding onto—" He nodded toward Ron, "—and trust what you feel is right in your heart."

Pamela took a step forward. "Trust that your destiny can change."

"I don't believe in destiny!" I cried. I was almost over the edge now.

"Well, maybe you should," she whispered and her words blew around me, heavy as rain, yet soft as snow.

_Maybe you should. Maybe you should. Maybe...Maybe...Maybe._

The wind screamed, ripped, howled, raged around me, echoing her words like a swirling battle cry.

My arm—the one holding onto Ron—was breaking and my bones were crying for release. I didn't realize, that all this time, part of me had still been holding onto my past with Ron and everything that had been before I woke up with Draco. I had to choose.

And so I did.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed, gazing down at Ron, watching the waves crush beneath him. Horrified, he tried to hold onto me, but my hand was already becoming slick with my decision. Closer to the edge I approached, closer to the darkness below, and farther from Draco, my sons, and Pamela I went. Closer to my demise. "I'm sorry Ron. I'm sorry."

And then he was gone, screaming and wailing as he crashed below, swallowed up by the dark sea. My fingers tingled from where his had only seconds ago been, but there was nothing I could do.

In a flash, the sea calmed, turning from a black abyss to a Caribbean blue heaven. The clouds dispersed until the sun blinked down with full majestic reign.

"I would hope that it is obvious to you now that you do indeed have a choice."

It was barely a whisper above the sound of the waves caressing the cliff's base and not a voice I remembered. When I turned, the woman standing in front of me was what I might imagine an angel to look like. Everything was bright about her - the way her pale skin glowed translucent in the sunlight, seeming to sparkle. The way her white blonde hair swept down her waist, trailing downward toward her knees like a cloak of snow. The way her bright blue eyes, clear and pure as the ocean below, gleamed like constellations.

She had no wings like I'd seen in the storybook I read to Haden and Jasper, yet she held a certain otherworldly air about her that I was more than sure she did not belong on this plane. Sorceress, angel, whatever she may be, she was extraordinary in person.

"Destiny?" I breathed, blinking. She only smiled, gesturing for me to take her hand. It was cool in my sweaty grasp. "This is impossible. You're just a story my mother read to me when I was a child. You are myth. You are fairytale."

"Let me assure you that I am quite real, my dear," Destiny responded gently.

There were so many questions I wished to ask her, but I could only manage one.

"Why are you here?"

"To remind you that you have a choice," Destiny replied softly.

"A choice in what, exactly?"

"Your path," she told me. "You see, I gave you a glimpse into the future, to help you understand that, despite what you believe, there is a life outside of Ron Weasley."

I blinked. "You mean...none of this was real?" I croaked. "But how is that possible? It felt so real."

"It was real. It was a possible combination of a chain of events in your life that came together to create this one particular future. There are many paths for you, Hermione, but only you can choose the path you are destined for. I can only help guide you."

"This is crazy," I blurted.

"Which is why I chose you, my dear," laughed the ethereal woman. "You were so adamant in your views; I just wanted to show you that destiny is not what you believed it to be. It is the choices you make that defined your life. It is not fate. You control your path, but what path you choose will reflect what type of life you will lead. Hermione, you married Ron thinking there was no other option. He was your best friend, you loved him and his family, and despite how you felt, you convinced yourself that he was meant for you. But he wasn't. You choose that. And if you question it, take time away to figure out why you are questioning something that moments ago you were so sure of."

"I was never sure of Ron," I admitted. "But I still don't see how this is relevant, or why you made me go through all of that. I fell in love with an enemy, Destiny. I had children. And none of it was even real."

"I gave you that glimpse, Hermione, to open your eyes. There's an entire world out there that you have yet to touch on. And you asked for my help, let me remind you of that," Destiny said.

"What do you mean?" I scrunched my face up in confusion, dialing back in time, trying hard to think of when I could possibly have asked for Destiny's help, when I knew she wasn't real.

"You were desperate, scared, and unsure of yourself," Destiny stated. "It was your wedding day, before you and Ron Weasley said 'I do'. You asked me what you should do. You asked me if you were making the right decision. I couldn't be silent anymore, when the one person who believed so strongly against me, had asked for my help."

I distantly remembered my eyes locking with my mothers in the front pew of the tiny chapel, the look in her eyes, perplexed and comforting at the same time. I remembered her words, then, as I stood with Ron, before embarking on a new life.

A memory blared its way into my brain at that instant, when I stared into Ron's anxious eyes.

_"Mum?" I whispered as she covered my face with the thin gauze of my veil. "Do you think I'm making the right decision?"_

_In the mirror, I saw the lines of worry appear on her forehead._

_"You aren't getting cold feet are you, honey?" my mother laughed, shaking her head and patting my shoulder, the lines on her face disappearing almost as quickly as they had appeared. I smiled weakly up at her. "There, I'm all done with you hair and make-up. You're beautiful, sweetheart. And as for making the right decisions, I think that if you love him and you feel it is right in your heart, then you are making the right decision. I can't make those decisions for you. But I know Ronald loves you very much. Have you tried asking Destiny?"_

Clutching my bouquet in my small, quaking hands, I whispered a plea to Destiny, to God, to anyone who might hear me, and I asked one simple question. One that my mother could not answer for me.

"_Am I making the right decision?"_

Without waiting for that answer, I married Ron anyway and had the worst night of my existence, before waking up next to Draco Malfoy, eleven years in some bizarre future I had never considered.

"I did not do this to tell you that Ron was the wrong person for you, or even that Draco Malfoy was your soulmate. I gave you this chance to see that your destiny is up to you. Only you can answer the question if you are making the right decision, because the decision you will be making should be right for _you_. I am not the answer to your prayers or your questions. I don't make the choice or decision for you, and I can't tell you what is right. But I can show you that you have the power to change your mind, make mistakes, and be who you ultimately would like to be."

Tears pooled in my eyes and my heart beat wickedly in my chest.

"I took you away from the influence of others," Destiny explained. "Away from Ginny's excitement to have you as a sister, away from Molly's enthusiasm at having another daughter, away from your father's warnings against your decision, away from your mother's worry, away from Ron's hold on you, and, most importantly, away from the person you had become-a person who had become accustomed to self sacrifice and being comfortable and safe that all ambition and fire had burned out. I took you away from a woman who made decisions without really thinking them through and a woman whose self doubt had become so large that she could not see clearly anymore."

I nodded, knowing she was right, comparing myself to who I had been before this experience and who I was now. I sank to my knees, overwhelmed by sudden emotion. I touched the hem of Destiny's white robes, soft as snow, and wept my immense gratitude. She wrapped me in a tight embrace and stroked my hair as my mother would.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Destiny addressed me gently. I couldn't help but notice how she did not refer to me as Hermione Jean Weasley or Hermione Jean Malfoy, but by my maiden name. Like I had started over. "Knowing what you have seen, that you have a choice other than what is expected of you, you may choose to change your destiny at this time."

I gasped, tears pouring down my cheeks at will. I gazed at her, so bright and beautiful in the sunlight, and wondered how this could all be true.

"But if you do," she continued, her icy blue eyes penetrating deeply into mine, "you will forget all that you experienced here. You cannot stay here. All of this will appear as a dream to you until eventually it will be as if it had never happened. I shall, in a sense, obliviate you."

No Haden, no Jasper, no Pamela or Ari. No Draco...All gone. Never to be seen again.

"If you choose this path, you shall never know what will come from the future and nothing will be the same as you once knew it to be."

"And if I don't choose to change my destiny?" I wondered.

"You will wake up, the morning after you wedding, next to Ronald Weasley just as it was before."

Memories, thoughts, emotions swirled inside me.

Not knowing what was going to happen was one of my biggest fears. I always had to have a plan. I never jumped into something without all the details, without knowing what might come next. But I think that's what the problem has been with me for a very long time. And I think that that is the whole point.

You don't know what will happen in the future. You don't know what decision to make until you make it. And, somehow, even though I didn't know what would come from my new future, I knew I had the chance for something greater than what I'd settled for. If anything, the experience Destiny had given me with the Malfoys had proven that to me.

"I choose to change my destiny," I said with finality.

"Are you certain?" she questioned. "Are you quite sure? You know what will happen."

"No, I don't," I corrected her kindly and she helped me to my feet, nodding with pride.

"You are ready, then," she declared and waved her hand.

Suddenly, a few paces away where the Malfoy Manor had stood moments before, a mirrored wardrobe appeared. The mirror blinked in the sunlight and I squinted. The two mirrored doors of the wardrobe opened slowly and beyond it, swirling purple mist.

One by one, I watched the life I had come to know as my own, disappear into the mist. Ron, Ariana, and their two girls went first, all swallowed up by the purple mist, one by one. My mother, with her salt and pepper hair came next, blowing me a kiss goodbye. She looked peaceful as she disappeared into the mist. Then came Ginny, with her short red hair and her beautiful children.

"See you on the flip side," she called before she and her children faded from my eyes.

"Don't be afraid, 'Mione," Harry comforted, nodding encouragingly. "You'll always have us."

Tears brimmed my eyes as I watched him leave. Pamela and Dennis, fingers entwined, stepped into the wardrobe, past the overly bright mirrors, and into the mist. Before Pamela followed Dennis, she turned to look at me with her beautiful mossy eyes.

"Thank you," she said to me, and let Dennis ease her through the mirrors.

Hand on my heart, rooted to the spot with Destiny by my side, I watched my family emerge. My heart froze and spluttered. My boys! I couldn't let them go, not without me. Not without knowing where they were going!

Before I could handle what was happnening, my beautiful Haden, with his curly locks, crooked glasses, and cheerful gray eyes, waved a jubilant wave and shouted out, "Bye, Mummy!"

I burst into tears as the mist swallowed him up, knowing I would never see that dimpled smile again. Jasper came next, pausing only a few moments to stare at me dead in the face, his eyes the same color as mine, reading every thought in my mind. He gave me a knowing nod, a small smirk, and a light wave before he, too, walked through the mist.

"No!" I shrieked, and had it not been for Destiny's tight grip on my arm, I would have capsized.

Watching my children depart from my life was, what I thought, the hardest thing to endure, but when Draco stepped forward, I broke down completely.

"I know it isn't easy, love," he said to me in the only way he could, "but it's what needs to happen. I'll find you again, if I can. If it is what is right, we'll find our way back to each other. Remember what I told you in Paris?"

I swallowed and nodded, hearing his words echo through the distance as he stepped into the mist.

_"I knew everything would work out," Draco stated. "I never stopped believing that you would come back to me. Something like what we have can't be kept down once it has been started. No matter what, we'll always find a way back to each other."_

_"And you believe that is our destiny?" I sighed. "To find each other?"_

_"I believe we are meant to be, and one way or another you'll come to realize that, whether it be an act of destiny or choice, or something of a higher power. We were meant to cross paths, and even if we die this very instant, we'll find each other again. Our souls are connected. Enemies, friends, lovers, whatever it may be-I can't live my life without you in it."_

"I will love you forever."

And with that, he was gone, before I had the chance to tell him the same. All that remained was what stood beyond the mist and through the two mirrors.

"What's past those mirrors, Destiny?" I inquired shakily as she led me to the wardrobe.

"Only you can answer that."

She let go of me and it struck me in that instant-she would not be coming with me. I would have to make this journey alone.

"I don't suppose we'll meet again?" I asked her, hoisting myself onto the floor of the wardrobe.

"The future is never set in stone," she reminded me cryptically with a smile.

With a large breath, I took one last minute to remember everything I had gone through, everyone I had come to love, and finally, I let it all go. Destiny disappeared behind the mist as I stepped backward into it, allowing the purple gray warmth to swallow me up whole.

...My last memory, before everything went white, was of the family portrait of me and Draco and our boys, above the stairs in Malfoy Manor, before Hermione Jean Malfoy was forever wiped away...

* * *

Everything was white. My head hurt. And I kept hearing the same song repeating itself inside my head like a marching band.

_"Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married. Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married. Gee, I really love you and we're gonna get married. Going to the chapel of love."_

"Jean?" exclaimed a voice, far too loud, and far too close. "Jean! Will someone get Jean, please? She's coming to!"

Mrs. Weasley?

"Molly," I croaked.

Black spots appeared on my vision, breaking through the white.

"Don't try to move, dear," instructed Mrs. Weasley sternly. "You hit your head."

The spots were clearing and slowly I began to see again. My surroundings were fuzzy at first and I blinked several times to focus.

"Where am I?" I wondered, clutching my head. "Ow. What happened?"

"Sweetheart, can you hear me?" asked my mother.

"Mum?"

"I'm right here. Focus on your breath," she commanded. In a lower voice, she muttered to Mrs. Weasley, "Panic attack. Must be the nerves. She used to do this all the time as a child."

"I'll get her some water," Mrs. Weasley offered, scuttling away.

When the door snapped behind her, my vision came slamming back. My mother kneeled beside me. Her dark brown hair, curly like mine but with a fringe of stylish bangs was swept up in an elegant up-do and her seashell pink lips were pursed in worry.

"I swear, I leave you for one minute to go and fetch your hairpieces from the van, and this is what I come back to," my mother clucked, shaking her head and smacking the flower clips onto the vanity.

I was in the bridal room of our church. The single window in the room was open, a light summer breeze toying with the blue and white floral patterned curtains.

"I don't know what happened," came another voice, this time from behind me.

It was then that I noticed Ginny, her long claret hair flowing in ringlets down her back. She stood, wringing her manicured hands. She was dressed in an ivory slip and half of her face was decorated in make up.

"One minute I'm doing my make up and we're waiting for you, talking about which of the two hairstyles she wants to do, and the next minute she's breathing all funny, rambling on about destiny and choices and the future, and then the next thing I know she's fainted! Mum was concerned she'd completely lost her marbles."

I couldn't remember a thing. My head pounded grouchily when I tried to remember the last thing I had been doing before I supposedly fainted. I caught a glimpse of myself in the vanity mirror as my mother helped me into the seat. I looked incredible, like something straight out of a fairytale, dressed in an ivory white empire waist wedding gown.

"Ginny, would you mind getting something for Hermione to snack on? I'm sure her blood sugar levels are low, which is probably why she fainted so suddenly," my mother asked kindly.

"Of course."

When Ginny had exited the room, my mother's smile slid off her face.

"What on earth happened?" she demanded, worry etched across her features.

"I honestly can't remember," I replied.

"Well, let's not worry about it," she brushed it off. "We've got loads to do and time is waring thin. I have a bride to glamor. Here, put these on. You don't want bad luck. "

With trembling hands, I slipped on my white silk gloves, which had once belonged to my mother on her wedding day. On my right wrist I clasped the sapphire bracelet that Ginny had given me earlier that month, after I had told her I was engaged to her brother. She said it would be my 'something blue'.

However, it just looked wrong.

"Stop shifting, dear," my mother said, pinning the flower clips into my glittery hair. "Are you sure you don't remember what happened?"

I shook my head, gazing at myself in the mirror. For some reason, I looked a bit older, a bit wiser.

"Ginny mentioned that you were talking about the future and something about destiny?"

As she brushed some rouge onto my cheeks, I felt something stir in my abdomen.

Destiny.

Icy blue eyes.

Sunlight.

_I'll love you forever. _

I began to shake, confused by the fragments piercing my mind. A dream? A memory? Something else?

"_Am I making the right decision?" _I echoed aloud, hearing the words in my head.

"You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

_There's an entire world out there that you have yet to touch on._

"How do you know?" I gasped, speaking to no one in particular.

_ There are many paths for you, Hermione, but only you can choose the path you are destined for._

"How do you know, what?" my mother pressed.

_He'll die. He won't make it._

_"_That you are making the right decision."

_He's stronger than you think. You don't have to meet the same destiny that he does._

"Well, first, you must ask yourself what that decision is," my mother explained, stroking my hair.

_There is always a choice._

_"_And then you must ask yourself why you are questioning it."

_Trust that your destiny can change._

"And above all," my mother continued, "you must trust yourself to make the right decision for you. You must trust what feels right in your heart."

_The only way to move forward is to let go of what you are holding onto and trust what you feel is right in your heart._

"That's the only way you'll truly_ know_. Have you tried asking Destiny?"

_I don't believe in destiny!_

_Maybe you should. _

"Destiny," I gasped, shooting out of my chair.

"Hermione! What on earth?" my mother hollered as I nearly plowed her over, catching herself on the chair. "What's gotten into you?"

"Mum," I spluttered, "Mum, I asked Destiny."

"You did?" Her eyes widened.

"When I was unconscious," I continued hysterically, "she showed me that I had the power."

"Power?" My mother looked absolutely flabbergasted. "What on earth has possessed you?"

Just then, Ginny burst through the doors of the dressing room, carrying a small tray of sandwiches, looking flushed and puffing in agitation. When she spotted me, she gave a howl of delight, setting the plate on the vanity before scurrying over to give me a crushing hug, her almond shaped eyes alight with excitement.

"Oh, Hermione!" she exclaimed, eyes watering. "You look simply stunning! How are you feeling?"

"Thank you," I replied weakly, putting a hand on my stomach to calm the sickening feeling bubbling up inside it.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Mrs. Weasley appeared at the doorway, poking her head inside.

"It's time," she announced. "Are you ready?"

_Only you can answer that._

Three sets of eyes stared at me. The world began to spin. It suddenly was far too hot.

"Mum, I can't do this," I blurted, feeling sick.

"Still not feeling well?" asked Ginny.

"No, it's not that. I just-I need some-"

"Molly, did you ever get that water?" my mother wondered and Mrs. Weasley's eyes grew wide.

"Oh, dear, I forgot," she said. "I'll go get some right away. But don't take too much longer. The ceremony is starting."

"Ginny, some privacy, please?" I puffed. "I need my mother."

Ginny's eyes squinted together. "But..."

"Ginny, dear, it will only be a moment," my mother said.

When Ginny had departed, my mother turned to me once more.

"This isn't right," I sobbed, breaking down. "Mum, I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, are you sure? Is it just nerves? Where did all of this come from?"

"Mum, this is not the path I choose for myself. This is not where I want my life to be going," I hiccuped.

"Every woman feels this way on their wedding day, pet," she comforted.

"No, Mum, this is more. I shouldn't feel absolute dread."

I bit my lip.

"Daddy was right, Mum. I'm settling and it isn't fair to either of us. I'm just not ready."

"You are sure?"

_Are you certain? Are you quite sure? You know what will happen._

_No, I don't._

"Yes."

"Then we will call off the wedding. If you aren't ready, there's no reason to rush."

"It's more than that, Mum. For such a long time, ever since the war, I haven't been myself. I've been what everyone else wants me to be, what everyone else expects me to be. I can't keep pretending to be someone I'm not. Daddy was right and I was just too stubborn to hear him out. I've lost myself and I haven't been me for quite some time. You can't deny that."

She bowed her head, knowing it was true. Which is why, when I began furiously fiddling with my dress until the beads snapped off and there was an unpleasant tearing sound, she did not stop me. The blue sapphire bracelet hit the ground next to my fallen gown with a _clang_. I stood in just my slip and garter.

The wedding strain began to hum throughout the church, urging the bride out of her quarters.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

"Hermione?" called Ginny. "Hermione, it's time."

"One moment, dear," called my mother.

"I have to get out of here," I insisted, panicking.

My mother held her hand to her heart, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

"Tell them I'm sorry," I implored, sobbing desperately now, "and that one day, I hope they'll understand."

"Hermione..."

"You were right, Mum," I gasped. "You were always right about Destiny. She's real. But only I have the power to change my destiny. Only I have the means to be who I'm destined to be."

"I love you and I am proud of the woman you are becoming," she whispered, placing a kiss on my brow. "I'll tell Arthur what has happened; Molly will be too hysterical for me to calm and I don't want her persuading you differently from your decision. I'll get your father and have him meet you at the car. We'll make all the arrangements we need to when the time comes."

"Thank you, Mum."

I edged toward the back door of the bridal room as my mother slipped into the hallway. I heard Ginny's entrance into the bridal room, wondering what was taking so long, but by then I was already sprinting down the lawn. I knew what she must have found-a torn up wedding dress, a blue sapphire bracelet, and an empty room. I knew she would understand what that display meant and I knew that, in time, she would come to forgive me.

I could only hope the same for the rest of the Weasley's, especially Ron.

As my father drove us away in my mother's blue sedan, the clock in the bell tower of the church struck noon, and the sound bellowed after us for what seemed like miles, hollering my betrayal.

But with it seemed to echo another voice, a male voice, one I couldn't exactly place. From my memory? A dream? And with it gave me new hope.

_"I believe we are meant to be, and one way or another you'll come to realize that, whether it be an act of destiny or choice, or something of a higher power. We were meant to cross paths, and even if we die this very instant, we'll find each other again. Our souls are connected. Enemies, friends, lovers, whatever it may be-I can't live my life without you in it."_

_"I will love you forever."_

In my heart, I knew I would find the man, one day, who would say those very same words to me. And I knew with overpowering certainty that, at that moment, I would feel it in my heart that it was right.

And when asked the question, "Are you making the right decision?" I could finally, without a doubt, reply,

_Yes._


	29. Important Notice Regarding Sequel!

Hello, my lovelies!

Yes, Destiny has ended and come to a close. However, this is not the end. I will be making a sequel, as it were, to Destiny. It will be called _Serendipity_.

I am currently working on the first chapter. It will feature Paris, it will feature drama, it will feature scandal, it will feature romance. Draco will be present, as will Hermione, and several others we've come to love. HOWEVER, do not expect the same story told in Destiny.

Remember that Hermione changed her destiny, not knowing what was to come from the future, and that nothing would ever be the same as she once knew it to be. So, do not expect things to be the same. Destiny has changed, as has our characters.

Once I have created the story and posted the first chapter, I will give you all a sneak peak here to let you know it has been posted.

Also, I've been receiving a lot of reviews asking for a sequel and an epilogue of sorts, so I have decided to continue on this quest, and by popular demand, punch out a sequel.

Thank you again for all your lovely reviews and I look forward to hearing more from all of you once Serendipity airs!

-Annie


	30. Serendipity Sneak Peak

**Hello, lovelies! :) Annie, here. Remember how I told you that I'd give you guys a sneak peak here on Destiny for the sneak peak of 'Serendipity', to let you know that is has been posted? Well, here is your sneak peak, darlings. **

**Enjoy and check out Serendipity! **

**-Annie**

* * *

Starting Over

* * *

**The sun was rising.**

**Beyond the simple pink bricked house of Number 34, the morning sky was a screenplay of colors; they were muted hues, as if the sky itself was just barely rising from its slumber. Distant sea foam waves slid across the sandy shore of the small fishing town of Whitby Bay. A light, salty breeze drifted through the open window, whispering warmly to the gauzy blue curtains. Birds chirped distantly and quietly.**

**It was a soft and peaceful morning, the kind that usually comforted me and pressed me to emerge from my sheets and welcome the day ahead of me, but today, it brought me nothing but numb despair.**

**Had I been asleep the dawn's breaking would have greeted me warmly, but I had been staring at this very same window, frozen upright with the quilts my mother had sewn me as a child wrapped tightly around my shoulders, since the darkest hours of the morning. Sleep? What a foreign notion. Sleep had long since abandoned me, forcing me to confront my hideous thoughts.**

**_What have I done?_**


End file.
